THE PLATONIC DIALOGUES.
Cambridge:
PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY. M.A.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
THE
PLATONIC DIALOGUES
FOR ENGLISH READERS.
BY
WILLIAM WHEWELL, D.D.
THE REPUBLIC AND THE TIMÆUS.
CMaAmCbMridIgLeLAN AND CO.
AND 23, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN,
London
1861.
PREFACE.
WHEN I published the first volume of my Platonic
Dialogues for English Readers, it was done as an
experiment to ascertain whether I was right in
supposing that a large portion of the Platonic
Dialogues could, by combining translation and
comment, be made intelligible and even interesting
to ordinary readers of English literature. The
reception which that publication met with was
such as to encourage me to publish other Dialogues
of which I had already, for my own
gratification, made translations in the same manner
; and even to go on to translate some additional
Dialogues, for the purpose of continuing the
series. In this manner I have been led to the
laborious and difficult task, which I should not
at first have had the courage to contemplate, of
translating and commenting the Republic and
Vi PREFACE.
the Timaeus ; and these I here offer to those who
study Plato, whether in Greek or in English,
hoping that I have done something to make these
remarkable works intelligible.
These Dialogues differ in their aim and substance
from those which I have already published,
in that they are not negative but positive, not
critical merely but constructive. Two previous
Classes of these Dialogues—the Dialogues of the
Socratic School, and the Anti-Sophist Dialogues
—are employed in analysing and disproving definitions
and opinions there propounded ; and the
other Class, the Dialogues connected with the
Trial and Death of Socrates, contains hardly any
positive doctrine except that of the Immortality
of the Soul. The Dialogues now presented, on
the other hand, are full of positive doctrines,
ethical, political, and physical, given along with
their professed proofs. The Republic contains,
especially, a theory respecting the foundations of
morality which, if true, supplies an answer to
many of the questions discussed in the previous
Classes of Dialogues. In those previous Classes,
Plato was in search of ethical definitions and ethical
truths : in the Republic, he conceives himself
to have found such definitions and such truths.
PREFACE. vii
There he was an enquirer and a critic : here he is
a theorist and a moralist.
The Republic, being thus mainly didactic, loses
one of the principal charms of the previous Dialogues,
the lively drama of conversational debate :
except in the First Book of the Republic, the Thrasymachus,
which is really a Dialogue of the Antisophist
class. But the reader who has been interested
by Plato's questions and objections in other
Dialogues will, I think, notwithstanding this less
lively character of the Republic, be interested by
it, as containing the answers which Plato gave to
his own questions, and the doctrines which he
embraced after his earlier doubtings. That these
doctrines are very important in the history of Moral
Philosophy, I have endeavoured to show in commenting
on them ; and the Books contain besides
an abundance of curious matter which I have ventured
to arrange as Digressions.
I cannot but believe that the English reader,
though he may sometimes be disappointed with the
results of Plato's speculations, will find, in that portion
of the Platonic Dialogues which I have now
completed, a very striking body of writings. It appears
to me also that these writings become more
striking by being taken in the order in which I have
Till PREFACE.
presented them. The points discussed in the Laches,
the Charmides, the Lysis, the Rivals, the Alcibiades,
though involving weighty questions, are in a great
degree juvenile puzzles, belonging to an early
stage of Moral Philosophy. After these, the fine
dramatic delineations of other moral teachers and
disputants, Protagoras, Prodicus, Hippias, Gorgias,
Polus, Ion, Thrasymachus, form an extraordinary
gallery of philosophical portraits. And this depiction
is further graced by a lofty tone of virtuous
resolve, as in the Gorgias, and by a thorough enjoyment
of literary beauty and literary playfulness,
as in the Phaedrus; while through all there runs
a stedfast assertion of the great doctrine of the
Immortality of the Soul, presented as the belief
of Socrates in the great tragedy of his death, the
Phaedo, and again urged in various mythological
forms in the Gorgias, the Phaedrus, and the Republic;
add to this, subtle speculations concerning
the soul and its faculties, anticipating the most
acute analyses of modern psychologists :—and we
have, I think, matter in which the English reader
may find grounds for an admiration of Plato,
and a pleasure in reading him, not altogether disproportionate
to the reputation which belongs to
his name.
'Mr
PREFACE. ix
That Plato's arguments are sometimes inconclusive,
sometimes unfair, and his dramatic representations
of opponents sometimes caricatures, are
criticisms to which he has been subjected from his
own day to ours ; and the justice of them will not
be denied, I think, by any one who undertakes to
make sense of what he has written. I am aware
that there have been persons who have explained
all seeming inconsistencies and weaknesses in him
by ascribing to him a habit of writing ironically.
To suppose that Plato is an author whose habit is
to lay traps for unwary readers by saying the opposite
of what he means, would be to make him
the dullest of jesters : and I should hope there are
few of his Greek readers who have so poor an
opinion of him.
The ethical system of Plato is completed in
the Dialogues which I have now published. There
are other Dialogues of great interest, as the Banquet,
the Cratylus, the Theaetetus, which I have
not yet translated. Whether I shall venture to
undertake these, circumstances must determine.
In translating the Republic, I have in several
parts availed myself of assistance from the translation
of Messrs. Vaughan and Davies. Their
plan and object is so different from mine, that they
X PREFACE.
cannot regard me as a rival ; and they will, I
hope, look with no dissatisfaction on the liberties
which I have thus taken.
My translation of the Mucus is in many parts
a mere abridgment of that most curious system of
the universe. M. Theodore Henri Martin's Etudes
sur le Timée contain profound discussions of all
the principal questions raised by this extraordinary
work.
TRINITY LODGE,
May 3o, 1861.
CONTENTS.
CLASS IV.
THE REPUBLIC.
PAGE
PART I. THRASYMACHUS . . . 6
(Rep. B. I.)
PART OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE 46
(Rep. B.
PART III. OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES . 115
(Rep. B. VIII. Ix.)
PART IV. SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF THE POLITY . 146
(Rep. B. ix. g 7, &c.)
PART V. OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL . 156
(Rep. B. x. § 9, &c.)
Xii CONTENTS.
PAGE
DIGRESSION I. OF EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY 174
(Rep. B. II. § 16, &c.)
DIGRESSION II. OF THE CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE
IDEAL POLITY . . . . 218
(Rep. B. v. § 1, &c.)
DIGRESSION III. OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS . 236
(Rep. B. v. § 18, &c. B. vi.)
DIGRESSION IV. OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
. . . . . . 275
(Rep. B. VI. § 14, &c. B. VII.)
DIGRESSION V. OF THE EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM
THE IDEAL STATE . . . . 326
(Rep. B. x. § I, &c.)
THE TIMÆUS. . 343
1
THE REPUBLIC.
PLAT. III.
The title of this Dialogue in Diogenes Laertius, The Polity, or
Of Justice, indicates the combined political and ethical character
of the Dialogue ; its object being to propound an ideal constitution
of a state, and hence to illustrate the moral constitution
of man and the nature of human virtue.
INTRODUCTION TO THE REPUBLIC.
THE title of this Dialogue might be more properly
rendered The Polity: since, as M. Cousin
observes, it does not describe or single out any
particular kind of constitution, such as the term
Republic indicates. This Polity is no more a
Republic than a Monarchy or an Aristocracy ;
and Plato repeatedly calls it by both these names.
But we are so familiar with the name of The
Republic of Plato, that I have retained it as the
general title, for fear that the ordinary reader
might be misdle, and might not recognize in this
Polity the Republic of which he has probably
heard and read already.
I have divided the ten Dialogues which compose
the Republic into Parts, of which the separation
and arrangement contains, I hope, in itself
evidence of its being conformable to the conception
and intention of the work. These Parts are so
distinct in their subjects that they may be regarded
as separate Dialogues ; and thus the Republic
forms, in itself, a Class of the Platonic
Dialogues ; the fourth Class following the three
which I have already published.
B2
4 INTRODUCTION
The First of these Parts, Thrasymachus, might,
as I have already said in the Preface to the
Antisophist Dialogues, have been included in that
Class, if it had not been undesirable to dismember
the Republic. It is remarkable for the same dramatic
vivacity which we find in most of the Antisophist
Dialogues ; and we may regard the Clitophon
as a prelude to it, as I have already remarked
in speaking of that Dialogue.
The Second Part, which I have entitled Of
the Ideal Polity and of Virtue, is really the cardinal
and essential part of the work ; describing, as I
have already said, Plato's idea of a Perfect State,
and illustrating, by means of that, the moral con-
. stitution of a virtuous man. And accordingly this
Part ends (at the end of Book iv.) with a formal
conclusion. But the Third Part, Of Bad Polities
and of Vices, illustrates negatively what the second
Part had illustrated positively, and ends (at the
beginning of Book Ix.) with a still more formal
conclusion.
The Fourth Part, which I have called the Sequel
to the Ethics of the Polity, appears to me, for reasons
which I have there given, to have been written
later. The same is probably the case with the
discourse on the Immortality of the Soul, which I
make the Fifth Part.
The Digressions which follow, are taken from
the remaining parts of the ten Dialogues of the
Republic. That these are digressions from the
main subject will be evident to the reader. They,
or most of them, may have been written or delivered
after the main scheme of the Polity had
been propounded. They look, in many places,
like the work of an author returning again and
again to the various branches of his subject, and
following them out as new thoughts arose. We
TO THE REPUBLIC. 5
can easily believe that such resumption and expansion
of the subject was an habitual employment
of the Platonic school in the shades of
Academus.
I now proceed to translate in the same manner
as in former volumes, though with fewer omissions.

THE REPUBLIC.
PART L—THRASYMACHUS.
SOCRATTEESS n(aRrreaptuebs lhicis, Bo.w 1n.) proceedings and
consequent Dialogues.
1 " Yesterday I went down to the Piraeus, with
the double purpose of offering my prayers to the
goddess, [Diana, who under the name of Bendis
was a special object of worship there,] and of seeing
the mode in which they celebrate the festival
[called from her name, Bendidia ;] this being the
first time that it has been celebrated. And undoubtedly
the processions of the companies of our
own citizens appeared to me very splendid ; but
that which came as a deputation from Thrace
[from which country this especial worship was imported]
was not less splendid.
" When we had offered our prayers, and seen
the spectacle, we were departing back to the city:
and thereon Polemarchus, the son of Cephalus,
who from a distance saw us setting out to go home,
told his boy to run on to us and tell us to wait for
him; so the boy came behind me and plucked me
by the cloak, and said, Polemarchus bids you wait
THRASYMACHUS. 7
for him.' I turned round and asked where he was.
He is coming after you,' said he ; stay for him.'
Well, we will stay,' said Glaucon. And in a
short time Polemarchus came, and Adeimantus the
brother of Glaucon, and Nikeratus the son of
Nikias, and some othse,r as persons returning from
the procession in which they had taken part.
And Polemarchus said, You look, Socrates, as if
you were setting out to go away to the city.'
You guess rightly,' said I. But,' said he, do
you see what a strong body we are ?" Of course
I do.' Well, you must either master us or stay
here.' But,' said I, there is a third way open
to us. We may perhaps persuade you to let us
go away.' But, said he, can you persuade those
who will not hear you?' By no means,' said
Glaucon. And Adeimantus said, Do you not know
that in the evening there is to be a torch-race by
men on horseback in honour of the goddess ?" By
men on horseback ?' said I. That is something
new. Are the men on horseback to pass the
torches from hand to hand? or how ?" Even so,'
said Polemarchus ; and moreover there will be a
festival lasting all the night, which will be worth
seeing. We will rise after supper, and go and
see this night-festival ; and we shall find a number
of young men there with whom we may converse.
So pray stay, and do not think of going.' And
Glaucon thereupon said, It seems that we must
stay.' If we must,' said I, it is to be done.'"
This kind of pleasantry, in which the persons
manifest their love of the society of their friends
by threatening to detain them by force, and by
submitting to such threats, we have in other parts
of the Platonic Dialogues ; for instance, in the
Phaedrus. The scene then shifts to the house of
Polemarchus, where the main Dialogue is held.
8 THE REPUBLIC.
2 " So we went with Polemarchus to his house,
and there we found Lysias and Euthydemus the
brothers of Polemarchus, and Thrasymachus the
Chalcedonian, and Charmantides the Paeonian, and
Clitophon the son of Aristonymus. There was in
the house, too, Cephalus the father of Polemarchus,
and a very old man he seemed to me to be, for
it was a long time since I had seen him. He sat
in a kind of arm-chair, with a chaplet on his head,
as he had been performing sacrifice in the hall of
the house ; and we sat down near him, for there
were chairs there placed in a circle."
Of the persons here introduced, Thrasymachus
sustains the principal share as the opponent of Socrates
in the Dialogue. He was a noted "Sophist,"
or professor of philosophy and education; and Clitophon,
here mentioned with him, was an admirer
of his, who in the Dialogue of that name is
represented as complaining that Socrates convinced
men that they were wrong, but did not lead them
on in what was right, and declaring that he should
betake himself to Thrasymachus. The conversation
begins between the aged Cephalus and Socrates.
Socrates says:
" Cephalus, seeing me, saluted me, and said,
Socrates, you do not often come down to us here
in the Piraeus; and yet you ought to do so. If
I were still active so as to 'be able to go to the
city without inconvenience, I should not ask you
to come here : we would have come to you. But
as matters are, you ought to come here more frequently.
For I assure you that in my case, in
proportion as the pleasures of the body fade away,
the desire and pleasure of conversation increase.
Do not then desert us, but be friends with these
youths, and visit us habtui ally as friends and near
connections.'
THRASYMACHUS. 9
" And I said, I assure you, Cephalus, I have
great pleasure in conversing with very old people.
It seems to me that one may inquire of them, as of
persons who have already passed along a road
which we, too, may have to travel, what kind of
road it is; whether rough and difficult, or smooth
and easy. And I would gladly ask how this seems
to you: seeing you are already at that point when
a man may be said to be on the threshold of old
age, as the poets speak. Do you report that that
part of life is hard, or how do you say?'
" On my faith, Socrates, I will tell you bow 3
it seems to me. For there are several of us, of
nearly the same age, who often come together,
according to the old proverb [about birds of one
feather]; and when we meet, most of us are full of
lamentations, wishing to call back the pleasures of
youth, remembering bodily enjoyments, and eating
and drinking, and the like; they are vexed to miss
these things, as being something precious, and hold
that life was then sweet, but that now life is not
life. Some, too, complain of the ill-usage which
old persons meet with from their relatives, and
bewail old age as the cause of all their ills. But
these persons, Socrates, seem to me not to lay the
blame in the right place. For if it were so, I should
have had to complain of the same things, and so
would all others who are come to the same age.
Now I have met with persons who were not in this
frame of mind: and, not to speak of others, I was
once present when Sophocles was asked by one whether
he was still capable of sensual pleasure: and
he said, Man, do not use language so irreverent.
I congratulate myself that I have survived such
desire; it is like escaping from a rabid and furious
master.' I then thought that he said well: I now
think so no less. In old age we are soothed into
10 THE REPUBLIC.
peace and freedom from all such servitude. When
the desires are no longer excited, when their tension
is over, it happens as Sophocles said: and this
is really a liberation from a crowd of mad masters.
And both with regard to such matters and our
condition as to our relatives, the cause is one and
the same: it is not old age, Socrates; it is a man's
disposition. If they are placid and good-tempered,
age is not very burthensome; if they are otherwise,
both age and youth are ill to bear. '
4 " I was delighted with this discourse, and
wanted to make him go on talking ; so I kept the
subject alive, and said :
" I suppose, Cephalus, that the greater part of
persons, when you say these things, do not believe
you ; they think that you bear old age easily, not
on account of your disposition, but because you
have plenty of money : they say that rich men
have many consolations and comforts."
" You say truly," said he ; " they do not believe
me ; and what they say is true, though not in the
sense in which they mean it. What Themistocles
said applies here. When a man of the isle of
Seriphos was railing against him, and saying that
he had his reputation not on his own account, but
on account of the city to which he belonged ; he
replied, that it was true, he would not have been
famous if he had been a Seriphian, and the other
would not if he had been an Athenian. Those
who are not rich and who do not bear age well,
may be fitly addressed in the same manner : the
placid man would not bear age easily, if combined
with poverty; and the unquiet man, even if he were
to become rich, would not become sweet-tempered."
" Pray, Cephalus," said 1, " did you inherit
the greater part of your property, or did you acquire
it yourself ?"
THRASYMACHUS. 11
" I acquired part, Socrates," said he. " I was,
in regard to wealth, in an intermediate condition between
my father and my grandfather. My grandfather,
who bore the same name as myself, inherited
about as much as I now have, and made it many
times as much : but Lysanias my father made it
much less than what it now is. I am content if I
leave it to these youths, not less than I received it,
perhaps a little greater."
" The reason why I asked you," said 1, "was
that you do not seem to me to be extravagantly
fond of money : whereas those who make their
money themselves, are twice as fond of it as other
people. As poets love their own poems, and
fathers their own children, so those who make
money are delighted with it as being a work of
their own, and not merely for its use, like other
people. And accordingly, they are difficult to converse
with, as they have no good word for anything
but wealth." " You say truly," said he.
" And now," I said, " pray tell me another 5
thing. What is the greatest good which you
conceive you have derived from being rich ?"
" One," said he, " which perhaps few will
believe, when I mention it. But believe me,
Socrates, that when a man thinks that he is near
his end, he feels fear and solicitude about matters
which did not trouble him before. The mythes
about Hades, that those who have done injustice
here on earth have to suffer punishment for it
there below, laughed at till then, do then take
hold of his soul, with the fear that they may be
true ; and the man, whether through the weakness
of age, or because he is now nearer to those things,
sees them more strongly. He is full of apprehension
and fear, and casts in his mind and considers
whether he has wronged any man. And
12 THE REPUBLIC.
he who finds that he has, in the course of his lifetime,
committed many wrongs, is affrighted like
a child wakened out of his sleep, and looks for- 1
wards with an evil apprehension. He who is
conscious of no wrong, has sweet hope for his
companion and the nurse of his old age, as Pindar
says. He, Socrates, sings very beautifully that, for
the man who has lived his life uprightly and holily,
Hope, the sweet nurse of age, still cheers his heart ;
Hope, which best turns to good the thoughts of man.
" It is wonderful how true this is. And I add,
that the possession of wealth is a valuable thing,
not so much to men in general, as to the upright
and just man. Not to have wronged any man,
even unwillingly, not to have neglected any religious
duty to God or left unpaid any debt to man,
when we have to depart thither, this iis a great advantage,
which wealth can give. Wealth has many
conveniences ; but I should say for a thoughtful
man, this is one of the greatest. "
6 " Excellently said, Cephalus," I replied. " But
about that which you have mentioned, Justice,
shall we say that it is really what you have said ; to
restore what any one has taken from another ?
or is that a thing which may sometimes be just
and sometimes unjust?"
So far all goes smoothly, and the Dialogue
presents to us as its principal purpose an example
of placid and contented old age. But the controversial
character of the Dialogue soon begins to
appear ; and it is led to by Socrates in a manner
which shews that he already had it in his mind.
He had predetermined that there should be a
discussion about Justice, or as we should say,
about the nature of Right and Wrong. Cephalus
had said, as we have seen, that the real value of
wealth is that it enables us to make restitution
THRASYMACHUS. 13
when we have done any wrong, and thus we need
not have to accuse ourselves of defrauding or deceiving
any one. Socrates immediately fastens
upon the expressions of Cephalus, and inquires
whether the things which have been assumed as
identical, or at least, nearly connected, are so ;
namely, Justice and Restitution ; Justice being
introduced in its abstract form, Dikaiosyne, though
only suggested as involved in the remedy of
wrong-doing, which Cephalus had described. Cephalus
had said, " It is good to be rich because
then you can make restitution when you have
taken anything wrongfully from any man :" and
Socrates immediately says : " Yes, but what is
Wrong and Right ? Is it always right to make
restitution ? or rather, does Rightness consist in
returning to each man his own ?" It is plain
that a man who takes up a subject in this manner
is ready for a controversy upon it.
And this appears still more evidently by the
next step which Socrates takes in the Dialogue ;
which is to put an extreme case of the question
which he had so suddenly introduced. " It cannot
be," he says, " that Rightness may always be
defined the returning to a man what is his own :
for if a friend who had committed to your care
weapons when he was in his senses, should demand
them again when he was mad, it would not be
thought right to give them to him." Of course,
we should think it simply sufficient to such a case
to say that moral rules and definitions do not
apply to our dealings with madmen. But the
objection is allowed to overturn the definition
in this form, in order to lead on to the discussion
of other definitions of Rightness or Justice.
Cephalus does not allow himself to be entangled
in this abstract controversy. He retires to
•
14 THE REPUBLIC.
resume his religious rites, saying, as he does so,
that he leaves the discussion in their hands.
"And," said I, " Polemarchus is your heir, is he
not?" meaning the heir of your share in the controversy,
as well as of your property. He smiling
says, " By all means ;" and withdraws to his religious
offices. 1
Polemarchus had referred to Simonides as agree- 1
ing with something which Socrates had said.
On the departure of Cephalus, Socrates says to
Polemarchus, " Now, you the heir of the controversy,
tell us what is it that Simonides says on
this subject, and says rightly." Polemarchus quotes
a line in which the poet says,
"To give to each his due is just."
And we have then (as in the Protagoras,
§ 72) the expressions of Simonides made the
occasion of discussing the subject in various forms.
Polemarchus, being pressed for an explanation of
the passage, is led to explain, that to give to each
his due, is to do good to friends, harm to enemies.
This is to be refuted, which is accordingly
done by means of some of the usual Socratic argu
ments. But in fact, the introduction of these
arguments is a subordinate move, intended only to
excite the impatience of Thrasymachus and to
lead him to take hold of the discussion in his own
way. The objections, however, to the doctrine
that justice consists in doing good to friends and
harm to enemies, are brought out with great acuteness,
by the usual method of induction.
7 " Well," said I, " if any one asked Simonides,
Of the arts which give to parties their due, what is
it that the art of medicine gives, and to whom ?"
" It gives due meats and drinks to men's bodies."

THRASYMACHUS. 15
" And what does the art of cookery give, and
to whom ?"
" It gives due seasoning to each dish."
" What then does the art of justice give, and
to whom ?"
" According to the leading of our argument,
it gives good to friends, and harm to enemies."
And then we have a further step of the same
inductive kind.
" Good and harm of what kind ? In matters
of health, if we have to do men good or harm, who
can best do it?" " The physician." " In the
matter of making a voyage, who ?" " The pilot."
" Then in what kind of matters will the just man
best do his special office of doing good and
harm ?"
Then Polemarchus answers less confidently :
but he answers, " In alliances of those who have
to attack and defend—fighting in common."
Here the flaw is obvious. To attack or defend !
But if we have not to attack or defend ? To those
who have no disease, the physician is unneeded.
To those who make no voyage, the pilot is unneeded.
So to those who have no war, your just
man, as you have described him, is useless.
Polemarchus is not prepared to acquiesce in this
result. He says, that for people at peace, as well
as for people at war, justice is useful. " Well
but," asks his unremitting questioner, " in what
cases useful ? Agriculture is useful in peace ;
namely, useful in procuring the fruits of the earth.
Shoemaking is useful ; namely, useful in producing
shoes. Well then : in the same way, for what
purpose is justice in a state of peace useful?"
" Useful in regulating associations," says Polemarchus.
But still another branch of inquiry is
opened by this answer. Associations for what ?
16 THE REPUBLIC.
" If there be an association for building, the architect
is the best associate. If there be an association
for harp-playing, the harpist is the best
associate. In what kind of association is the just
man a better associate than those ?" " In associations
about money matters," answers Polemarchus.
But still Socrates finds an opening for his
inductive search : " Money matters, good : but
money how employed ? If we have to buy a horse
with money, the man knowing in horses is the
best adviser. If we have to buy a ship, the shipwright
is so. When, then, we have to use money,
we can find better advisers than your just man. In
what case, then, is the just man the best adviser
about money?" Polemarchus answers, " When it
is placed in deposit : then the just man keeps it
safely."
And then Socrates has a little triumph in the
conversation. " So," he says, " when money is of
no use, justice is useful in dealing with it. And
so if a pruning-hook, or a shield, or a lyre are
to be kept useless, justice is useful in dealing with
them ; but if they are to be used, we need other
arts, the art of the vine-dresser, or of the soldier,
or of the musician. And so in all cases, when a
thing is of no use, then justice is useful in dealing
with it : but when it is used, justice is useless.
Justice, then, cannot be a thing of any great value."
8 And then they go to another argument, jocose
rather than serious, that the art of keeping anything
must be closely connected with the art of
getting it ; and that he who can keep money best
can get money best: and so the just man who can
keep money so well for others is also clever in
getting money from others : and thus the just man
does really the same thing which the thief does;
THRASYMACHUS. 17
and accordingly Homer praises Odysseus for his
skill in this way; and says of him that he
All mankind in fraudful oaths excelled.
And so Homer and Simonides agree that justice
is something nearly allied to thievery.
Polemarchus acknowledges himself puzzled by
this reasoning: but still holds to his thesis, that
justice consists in doing good to our friends and
harm to our enemies.
This thesis is then attacked on another ground.
Men may be mistaken in their judgment of who
are their friends and who are their enemies ;—who
are good and who are bad; and so justice, according
to the definition given, might consist in
doing good to the bad and bad to the good. And
so Polemarchus is made to amend his definition,
and to say now, that it is just to do good to a
friend who is good, and harm to an enemy who is
bad.
But then an objection to this definition is 9
again taken on broader grounds. " We have
talked of a just man doing harm to bad men: but
can a just man do harm to any man? If you do
harm to anything, you make it worse, not better.
If you do harm to horses or dogs, you make them
worse, as horses and as dogs. If then we do
harm to men, do we not make them worse as men?
And thus if justice were what you say, we should
have a human virtue which makes men worse as
men. But as we cannot by applying the art of
music make men unmusical, as we cannot by the
equestrian art make men bad horsemen, so we
cannot by using the virtue of justice, make men
worse men, that is, unjust men. This is impossible
; as it is for heat to make men cold, or for
cold to make men hot.
PLAT. III.
18 THE REPUBLIC.
"And so, Polemarchus, a just man, a good
man, cannot do harm to any man, friend or enemy:
to do that, is the office of the unjust man. And
so if any one says it is just to give to each his due,
—meaning by that to do harm tb enemies and good
to friends,—he talks not wisely. He says what is
not true." This Polemarchus now assents to.
" Well then," said I, " we make common
cause, you and I, against any one who says this,
whether he ascribe it to Simonides, or Bias, or
Pittacus, or any of the wise men of ancient times."
Polemarchus agrees to this. " But," says Socrates,
" this maxim, that it is just to do good to
friends and harm to enemies, whom do you think
I ascribe it to? It is the maxim of Periander the
tyrant of Corinth, or Perdiccas the despot of Macedon,
or Ismenias the traitor of Thebes, or some
other despotical person greedy of power." " Most
true," says Polemarchus. " Well, but as justice
is not this, what are we to say that it is?"
It cannot be denied that these arguments,
though ingenious and subtle, are, partly at least,
technical and unconvincing; and likely to appear
puerile and frivolous to a person accustomed to
the rude vigour of practical debates. Such a person
might be impatient at hearing such discussions
so long protracted; and I have considerably
abridged them. Accordingly Thrasymachus the
Chalcedonian, who has already been mentioned as
present in the house of Polemarchus (Sect. 2), and
who was a sophist or public debater of considerable
note, at this point gives way to his impatience.
10 " Thrasymachus," says Socrates, " had several
times, while we were thus speaking, been on the
point of interrupting us and taking the discussion
into his own hands; and had been withheld by
THRASYMACHUS. 19
those who sat by him, and wanted to hear the
argument to the end. But when we came to a
sort of pause, and I had said what I have mentioned,
he no longer contained himself, but gathering
himself up like a wild beast for a spring,
he darted at us as if he would tear us in pieces ;
I and Polemarchus shrank away in a fright. And
he, speaking aloud to the company, said: What
childish folly possesses you all this while, 0 Socrates?
and why do you go on with this child's
play of mutual concessions? If you really want
to know what justice is, do not ask people questions,
and then show your cleverness in refuting
their answers. You know very well that it is
easier to ask questions than to answer them. Do
you answer yourself, and tell us what you think
justice to be; and do not tell me that it is what is
right, or what is useful, or what is advantageous,
or what is profitable, or what is expedient : but
give me your answer clearly and distinctly, for I
shall not accept such nonsensical replies as those.'
" These words filled me with consternation.
I looked at him with terror; and think if he had
fixed his eye upon me before I fixed mine upon
him, I should not have been able to speak a word.
But I had turned my look to him when he burst
out in his anger: and I said in a tremour :
" 0 Thrasymachus, be not too hard upon me.
If I and my friend here go wrong in our inquiry,
be well assured that we go wrong without intending
to do so. If we were in search of gold,
we should not be willing to defer to one another
so as to make our search useless : and you may be
well assured that as we are in search of justice, a
treasure much more precious than gold, we shall
not make foolish concessions to one another, instead
of earnestly trying to find what we seek.
c2
20 THE REPUBLIC.
Do not believe it, my friend. But you see we
lack power. You clever persons ought then rather
to be sorry for us than angry with us."
11 " At this he burst into a loud Sardonic laugh,
and said:
0 Hercules! this is the usual irony of Socrates!
I knew it would be so, and told these
persons here, that you would not be willing to
answer questions; that you would make all kinds
of pretences and all kinds of jests after your manner,
rather than answer the questions which were
asked you.'
" I replied: You are very clever, Thrasymachus.
You know very well that if you were to
ask any one how many is twelve, and were at the
same time to say to him: Now do not begin to tell
me, my man, that twelve is twice six, or three
times four, or six times two, or four times three;
for if you give me those nonsensical answers, I
will not take them: it must be evident to you that
the man would not answer questions so asked.
And if he were to say to you: 0 Thrasymachus,
how do you say? Am I not to give any of the
answers which you mentioned, not even if one of
them be the right answer? Am I to give you an
answer which is not true? Or how do you say?
What would you reply to this?"
" As if forsooth," said he, " this case was like I
that!"
" How is it not like ?" said I. " But even if
it be not like, yet if it appear so to the person who
is thus questioned, do you not suppose that he
will answer as the matter appears to him, whether
we forbid his doing so or do not?"
" Well then," said he, " will you do what you
say? Will you give one of the answers which I
prohibited ?"
THRASYMACHUS. 21
" I should not wonder," said I, " if upon consideration
one of them appeared to me the right
one."
" And what then," said he, " if I should produce
an answer to the question, What is justice?
far better than any of those, what would you
think that you deserved ?"
" Exactly," said I, " what ignorant persons
deserve ;—that they should be instructed by those
that know better. I think I ought to be punished
that way."
" You are pleasant," said he ; " but besides
learning a lesson, you must pay me a fee."
" Yes, when I have money," said I.
" There is money to be had," said Glaucon.
" So far as money goes, 0 Thrasymachus, give us
your definition. We will all make up a purse for
Socrates."
" Yes," said he, " that Socrates may follow
his usual plan ; may evade answering questions
himself, and may cavil at and pull to pieces the
answers given by others."
" But, my excellent sir," said I, " how can any
one answer questions, in the first place, on points
which he does not know, nor pretend to know ;
and, in the next place, when, if he has any opinion
about them, he is forbidden to say what he
thinks, by a person of great authority ? It is
much more suitable that you should speak : for
you say that you have the knowledge, and are
able to deliver it in words. Pray do this : and do
me the favour to answer me ; and do not grudge
your instruction to Glaucon and these others."
The representation here given of the impetuosity
and vehemence of the opponent of Socrates
is lively enough; but the effect of the calmness
and temper of Socrates in resisting this attack is
22 THE REPUBLIC.
represented as equal to the occasion. The controversial
lists are now duly marked out ; and the
hearers, as usual, watch the event with inexhaustible
interest. Perhaps the definition of Justice
which Thrasymachus gives had really been propounded
by him or by some person of note. In discussing
it, we may expect that Socrates, as usual,
will allow himself the use of verbal objections and
pleasantries, as well as of solid arguments. The
account of the logical duel now proceeds.
12 " On my saying this, Glaucon and the others
begged him to do what I had proposed. And
Thrasymachus was, in fact, obviously very desirous
of having the discourse in his own hands,
that he might show his cleverness : being persuaded
that he had an admirable answer ready :
though he pretended to make objections, to the
effect that I should be the respondent : but at last
he yielded, and said :
" And so this is that wisdom of Socrates
which is talked about ! He will not himself tell
anything, but goes about hearing what he can
from others ; and does not even give them any
return for what he gets.'
" In saying that I learn from others," I replied,
" you say truly, Thrasymachus : but not so, when
you say that I give them no return. I give them
the best return I can ; I can only give them my
praises ; for I have no money. How cordially I
praise when any one seems to me to speak well,
you will hereafter know ; you will know immediately,
if you will answer; for I think that you
will speak well."
" Listen then," said he. " I say that what is
just is nothing else than what is good for the
stronger man. Now, why do you not praise me ?
You will take care not to do that."
THRASYMACHUS. 23
" I must first," said I, " know what you mean.
At present I do not. You say that what is just
is what is good for the stronger man. What do
you mean to say? You do not mean this : that
if Polydamas the boxer is a stronger man than
you or I, and if beef-steaks are good for him, that
the same kind of food is just and proper for us,
the weaker men."
" You are offensive, Socrates," he said ; " and
take what is said in the way in which you can
make it look absurd."
" By no means, my excellent Sir," said I:
" but explain more clearly what you mean."
" You know," said he, " that some states are
governed by a despot, some by the democracy,
some by the aristocracy."
" Of course, I know."
" And the governing part of each state is the
strongest."
" It is."
" And in each state the governing part makes
laws for its own good : a democracy makes democratical
laws ; a despot, despotical ; and the rest
in like manner : and by doing this they imply
that it is just that the governed should conform
to what is good for them; and if any one deviates
from this line, they punish him as a transgressor
of the law and a violator of justice. And so I say
that this is what in every state is just :—that
which is good for the established government.
And the established government is the stronger
party; so that any man who can reason must see
that what is just is universally what is advantageous
to the stronger party."
" Now," said I, "I understand what you mean;
but whether it is true or not, I will try to make
out. As it appears now, you say that what is just
24 THE REPUBLIC.
is what is advantageous • though a little while
ago, you prohibited me from giving such an answer
: but you add to the expression advantageous,
the further expression, to the stronger party."
"And that I suppose," said he [ironically], 4 "is a small addition."
" Truly, it does not yet appear whether it is
great or small. But as I too assert justice to be
something which is advantageous, and you add, to
the stronger party, and I am not clear about this,
we must examine the point."
" Examine," said he.
The doctrine, that what is called Justice means
merely the interest of the strongest, is a doctrine
which has often been maintained both in ancient
and in modern times. It is otherwise expressed by
saying that there is nothing which is right or
wrong by nature; that rights are matters of human
institution, and are instituted so as to establish the
interest of the strongest party : in short, that Might
is Right. This doctrine was commonly current
in the time of Plato ; and it was one of the main
objects of his philosophy to establish, in opposition .
to this doctrine, that Justice is a real thing, independent
on man's will ;—that right and wrong
exist by nature, and are not framed by human institution,
or dependent on man's advantage ; —that
justice and right are things eternal and indestructible.
To advance arguments, clear and simple,
which may refute those of Thrasymachus against
the reality of justice, is the object of this First
Book of the Republic. When by this means it has
been shown what justice is not, the succeeding
Books are occupied in showing what, according
to Plato, it is.
When Thrasymachus says that that is just
which is good for the strongest, and Socrates asks
THRASYMACHUS. 25
whether if beef be good for the strong man, it
is therefore just that we, the weaker, should live
on beef; this is of course intended as a provoking
quibble, which is to make the impatient Chalcedonian
still more impatient, as well as to lead to
a clearer explanation of what he means to say.
But the arguments which follow are intended as a
refutation of this doctrine, and we must endeavour
to seize their logical import. For that purpose
I shall, as on other occasions, omit many of the
short interlocutions, and put the arguments in a
more continuous manner. When Thrasymachus,
to Socrates's declaration that he must examine
whether the account given of justice be true, has
tauntingly said, " Examine," Socrates goes on :
"I shall so do. And now tell me : do you 13
say that it is just and right to obey the Rulers
of the state ?"—" I do."—" But are the Rulers
in each state infallible ; or are they liable to
error ?"—" Undoubtedly," he said, " they are liable
to error."—" Then when they set about making
laws, they make some rightly, and some not
rightly ?"—" So I think."—" But to make laws
rightly, is to make such as are advantageous to
themselves : to make them not rightly, is to make
such as are not advantageous? Or how do you
say ?"—" Exactly so."— " But the laws which
they make are to be obeyed by the governed, and
to do so is just and right ?"—" Of course it is."—
"Then according to what you say, it is not only
just and right to do what is advantageous to the
stronger party, but also the contrary, what is not
advantageous?"
Thrasymachus here finds himself caught : he
starts at this. " How do you say ?" he asks.
• " I say what you say, as seems to me. But
let us examine more carefully. Are we not agreed
2 6 THE REPUBLIC.
that the Rulers, in making rules for the governed,
sometimes mistake as to what is best for themselves
: but that what the Rulers command, it
is just and right that the Governed should do?
Are we not agreed on this ?"—" I think so," said
he. " Do you not think then that it is just and
right to do what is not advantageous to the Rulers,
the stronger party, when the Rulers, not intending
it, command what is evil for themselves? for
you say that it is right that they, the Governed,
should do what those ordain? Must not then, 0
most clever Thrasymachus, this come to pass, thta
it is right to do the contrary of what you said
at first : for in the case which we are supposing,
that which is not for the advantage of the stronger,
is commanded for the weaker to do ?"
This is a palpable hit ; it is shown that the
definition given by Thrasymachus of what is right,
is untenable in its plain and obvious sense. Indeed
it is plain, that he who asserts that the will of
the Ruler makes right, but that the Ruler may judge
wrongly, exposes himself to an easy refutation.
The bystanders here take up the dispute, Polemarchus
on one side, and Clitophon on the other.
" Certainly, Socrates," said Polemarchus ; " that
is very clear."
" Yes, if your testimony is to be taken," said
Clitophon.
" But what need is there of testimony ?" said
" For Thrasymachus himself allows that the
Rulers may sometimes ordain what is evil for
themselves • and that it is just and right that the
Governed should do that. For, 0 Polemarchus,
Thrasymachus defined it to be right and just to
do what is ordered by the Rulers. And, 0 Clitophon,
he defined that to be right, which is commanded
by the stronger party. And having laid
THRASYMACHUS. 27
down these two definitions, he confessed that the
stronger party may sometimes command the weaker
ones to do what is not for its own advantage."
And from this confession, it would no more be
right to do what is for the advantage of the
stronger party than what is for its disadvantage.
" But," said Clitophon, " by what is for the
advantage of the stronger party, he meant what
the stronger party thought to be for its advantage:
and this the weaker must do : and this he defined
to be justice and right."—" But," said Polemarchus,
" that was not what he said."
" It makes no difference, Polemarchus," said 14
I. " If Thrasymachus now says so, let us take
him so."
"And tell me, Thrasymachus : was this what
you meant to say was justice and right ; that
which seemed to the stronger party to be advantageous
to it, whether it be so or not ? Are we
to understand you to say this ?"
Thrasymachus here takes a new line of defence.
He gives up the notion of the Ruler as
merely the stronger person, liable to err in
judgment. He takes an ideal Ruler, who is not
fallible: this refinement of his argument he delivers
in a very overbearing way. To Socrates's
inquiry, he replies:
" No, I do not say this. But do you think
that I call that man the stronger, who errs in
judgment, at the very time that he does err?"
" I thought," said I, " that you did say so,
when you confessed that Rulers are not infallible,
but sometimes make mistakes."
" You are a quibbler, Socrates. Do you call
him a physician, who makes mistakes about a
disease ? do you call him a physician at the very
time that he is wrong on a matter of physic ? Do
28 THE REPUBLIC.
you call a man a logician, who makes a mistake
in reasoning, at the very moment of his mistake ?
We do use such expressions indeed, and say that
the physician went wrong, and the logician went
wrong: but either the one or the other, so far as
he is what we call him, never goes wrong. In
exact language—you are very fond of exact language—
the master of any art never errs. It is
by want of his art that he errs who errs. So far
he is no longer a master of his art. No artist, or
man of science, errs so far as he is such. No Ruler
errs, so far as he is a Ruler: though in common
language we may say that the physician errs and
the Ruler errs: and such language I used to you
a little while ago. But it is more exact to say
that the Ruler, so far as he is a Ruler, does not
err;—and so commands what is best for himself :
and this the persons governed must perform. And
so, as I said at first, what is for the advantage of
the stronger party is that which it is just and right
to do."
This move of Thrasymachus, introducing an
ideal Ruler, master of a science of Ruling, as
the Physician is master of Physic, is an adoption
of Platonic grounds; and it is not likely that Plato
will shrink from a discussion on such grounds.
Socrates replies :
" Good," said I, " Thrasymachus. You think
I quibble then?"
" Atrociously," said he.
"You think it was with an insidious design
that I asked you those questions, that I might
wrest your discourse awry?"
" I know it very well now," said he: " but
you will get nothing by it. You will not pervert
what I say without my detecting you; and will not
be able to put me down when you are detected."
THRASYMACHUS. 29
" My dear Sir," said I, " I should never think
of attempting such a thing. But that we may
not again run into the same confusion, define
' clearly whether, in speaking of the Ruler and the
Stronger Party, (as you just now did), whose advantage
it is right that the weaker should conform
to, you mean the Ruler in ordinary language, or
the Ruler in the exact sense of the term. "
" In the most exact sense of the term," said
he: " and so you may quibble and twist my words
if you can. I ask for no indulgence from you.
But you are not clever enough to do that."
" Do you think," said I, " that I am so insane
that I should try to shave a lion, or to quibble
with Thrasymachus ?"
" You have tried," said he, "and you made
nothing of it."
" Enough," said I, " of such talk : but tell
me now about the physician in the strict sense of
the term, that we were speaking of."
We then have an argument which is supposed
to reduce Thrasymachus to self-contradiction, and
thus, to irritate him into extreme rudeness. It is
difficult to give this argument so that it shall be
felt by the English reader cogent enough to produce
this effect. It may, however, be stated thus ;
divesting it of the form of a series of questions to
which Thrasymachus replies with growing impatience
and sullenness.
The physician, in the strict sense of the term,
is not a money-maker, but a healer of the sick.
The ship-captain is not a sailor, but a commander
of sailors. He sails in the ship, but that does not
make him a sailor properly—properly he is a commander
of sailors. And in each of these cases,
the art of him who is master of the art is directed
to a certain advantageous end. The physician's
30 THE REPUBLIC.
art is directed to make the body whole. If this
end be obtained no further end is aimed at. If
the physician's art required, to complete it, some
other art, [as the art of making money for himself],
that art would require another to complete it, and
so on in an infinite succession. Each art is complete
and entire in itself, in that exact use of
terms which we are to follow. And so the art of
physic does not aim at advantage to the physician,
but to the body. The art of horse-training does
not aim at advantage to the trainer, but to the
horse. And so every art to its proper subject,
and not to the masters of the art.
And each art has its subjects under it. And
thus no art aims at the advantage of the master,
but of the subjects of the art ;—of the weaker
party.
" He assented to this after some opposition, trying
to make a fight at this point : and when he
had given his assent, I said:
" And thus the physician, in so far as he is a
physician, does not aim at the advantage of the
physician, nor command what tends to that, but
what is for the advantage of the sick man; for the
physician, properly speaking, is not a moneymaker,
but a healer of the sick. Or is this agreed
between us ?" He grants it.
" And thus the captain of a ship, strictly speaking,
is a commander of a ship, and does not seek
his own advantage, but that of the sailors who are
under him."
He granted this with reluctance.
" And thus," said I, " 0 Thrasymachus, no
master of any art, in so far as he has others under
him, seeks his own advantage, nor gives command
with that view ; but seeks the advantage of those
under him who are the subjects of the art. And
THRASYMACHUS. 31
looking at that, as becomes him, he says what he
says, and he does what he does."
This is represented as irritating Thrasymachus
so much, that he gives vent to his spleen in
an attack so rude, as to be comparable only with the
ingenious scurrility which rough boys use towards
each other in the streets. The expressions are so
coarse that I hesitate to translate them ; but they
must be understood, I conceive, as implying a
charge of the childishness which is not yet out of
the hands of female attendants, and of an education
neglected even as to the lowest decencies of
life. Socrates says :
" When we had arrived at this point of the 16
discussion, and it was evident to all that the account
of justice was turning about so as to be opposite
to what Thrasymachus had said, he, instead
of answering, cried :
" Tell me, Socrates, have you a nurse ?"
" Why?" said I. " Is it not rather proper to
answer me, than to ask such questions ?"
" Because," said he, " she does not take proper
care of you, and lets you snivel and drivel. You
have not learnt from her that there are such things
as shepherds and their flocks."
" How is that ?" said I.
" You think, it seems, that shepherds and cowherds
aim at the good of their flocks of sheep and
their herds of cows; that they fatten them and
tend them, aiming at some other end than the
good of their masters and of themselves. And do
you think that the Rulers of States, who are
really Rulers, have any other view of their States
than the master of a herd of cattle has of it ; or
consider any thing else, day and night, than how
they may get their advantage out of them ?"
Here, at least, Thrasymachus appears to have
32 THE REPUBLIC.
the favourite Socratic argument of induction in his
favour ; and accordingly he goes on in a triumphant
declamation. But in doing this, he shows that he
considers justice, as he has defined it, to be a quality
fit for the weaker party only : and bestows all
his admiration, frankly and by name, upon the Unjust
Man, who is superior to such restraints. He
asks in his taunting vein :
" Have you made so little progress in your
knowledge of the Just and of Justice, of the Unj
ust and of Injustice, as not to know that Justice
and Just action is really the good of another,—the
advantage of the stronger Party, the Ruler; but is 1
the harm and damage of him who obeys and subserves
that purpose : while Injustice, on the contrary,
rules over the simple ones who are just :
and they under its control, promote the advantage
of the Unjust Man who is the stronger, and by
their ministrations make him, the stronger, happy,
but themselves in no degree. My most simple
Socrates, you are to consider, that the Just man
always comes off worse than the Unjust. In the
first place, in every transaction in which they are
partners, where they have to share anything between
them, you will always find that in the winding-
up of the affair, the just man never gets more
than the unjust, but less. And then as regards
their relation to the public, when anything is to be
contributed, the Just man, in equal circumstances, 1
contributes more, the Unjust less ; and when anything
is to be got from the public, the former gets
nothing, the latter, much. And when the one and
the other have to serve any office, the Just man, if
he suffer no other loss, at least suffers by having
to neglect his private affairs, and gets nothing
from the public, precisely because he is Just; and
besides this, becomes odious both to friends and
THRASYMACHUS. 33
acquaintance, because he will not grant them any
favours which Justice does not authorize. While
in the case of the Unjust Man, everything happens
contrary to this. By the Unjust Man, here I mean
such an one as I have already described, him who
has the power to take to himself the greater share.
Fix your attention on such a one, if you wish to
judge how far it is for his private advantage to be
unjust rather than just. And you will see this
most easily if you take the case of the most complete
injustice, in which the Doer of Injustice is
made most happy, while those who suffer injustice
and will not do it, are made most miserable. This
case is the case of a successful Tyrant, who takes
to himself everything, private and public, sacred
and secular, not partially and in detail, but openly
and wholesale. For if any one deals unjustly
with a partial matter merely, and is detected, he
suffers punishment and extreme disgrace. Those
who do such things on a small scale are called
Temple-robbers, Kidnappers, Burglars, Swindlers,
Thieves, according to the nature of their acts.
But when a man, besides getting possession of the
property of the citizens, makes the citizens themselves
his slaves, instead of being called by these
hard names he is termed Happy and Favoured;
not by the citizens only, but by strangers also,
who hear that the man has thus practised Injustice
in its full dimensions. For it is not from
fearing to do Injustice, but from fearing to suffer
it, that men give it hard names. And so, Socrates,
Injustice, as you see, is a stronger and freer and
more masterful thing than Justice : and, as I said
at first, Justice is that which is for the advantage
of the stronger, Injustice is that which is for its
own advantage and profit."
" When Thrasymachus had said this, he was 17
FLAT.
34 THE REPUBLIC.
about to depart ; like a bathing man who had
poured his flood about our ears. But those present
would not suffer him to do this ; they compelled
him to remain, and to render an account of
what he had said. I also was very earnest in
asking him to do so ; I said :
" Most excellent Thrasymachus, after giving
us such a discourse, do you think of departing
before making us understand fully, or letting us
make you understand, whether the case is really so
or not ? Do you think it is a small matter which
you have undertaken to define, when it really is
the whole course of human life? the question what
life each of us is to lead, so as to live to most advantage?"
" Well," said Thrasymachus, " do I think
otherwise ?"
" It would seem so," said I ; " or else you care
little for us ; and have no consideration whether
we shall live well or ill, in our want of that
knowledge which you profess to have. My good
friend, be kind to us, and teach us too your lore.
If you render a service to us, numerous as we
are, it will be none the worse for you.
" I tell you, for my part, that I am not convinced,
and that I do not think Injustice more
profitable than Justice, not even if it be uncontrolled
and allowed to do all that it pleases. Let
there be such an unjust man as you have described
; and let him be able to do his Injustice,
either by escaping detection or by overcoming
opposition. Still you will not convince me that
his course is more profitable than Justice. And
perhaps there are others of this opinion, not I
alone. Convince us then thoroughly, my good
sir, that we are not in the right, when we esteem
justice above injustice."
THRASYMACHUS. 35
" And how," said he, " am Ito convince you?
If you are not convinced by what I have said,
what am I to do ? Shall I take my arguments and
thrust them into your understanding ?"
" No, for heaven's sake, do not do that. But
in the first place, when you have said a thing,
stand to it; or if you change your ground, change
it openly, and do not lead us wrong. But now
you see, Thrasymachus—for we must go back
and give a further consideration to what we were
saying before—that though you have defined the
true physician exactly, you did not think proper to
adhere to the same exactness with regard to the
shepherd, but spoke of him as tending his sheep,
(even in so far as he is a shepherd,) not for the good
of the sheep, but as a man whose object is to make
them fit for food, and to make a banquet of them,
or to make money by selling them; thus acting the
part of a money-maker, not of a shepherd."
When Thrasymachus has thus been kept in
his place, to stand a public assault from Socrates,
we should expect that the arguments adduced
against him should be such as have some new
cogency ; but instead of this, we have merely a
further prosecution of the Socratic technical doctrine,
in which Thrasymachus had involved himself,—
rashly as it would seem, and without being
master of such subtleties,—that each art has its
special object by which it is defined ; and in so
far as it is such art, cannot have any other object,
and consequently cannot have the gain of the
master of the art for its object. And so the shepherd's
art, Poimenikè, exactly taken, must have
for its object the good of the sheep. And this, 18
it is argued, is not disproved, though any art
attains some other object, as well as this its technical
object. The Pilot's art, Kubernetikè, has
D 2
36 THE REPUBLIC.
for its object to cross the sea safely. A man by
doing this may improve his health ; but this does
not make Navigation and Physic the same art. And
so if men make money by any art, this is because
the art of money-making, Mistharneutikè, is
added to their special art. Architecture has for
its object to build houses ; and if the architect
makes money, it is because he adds art Mistharneutic
to art Oikodomic. If the master of the
art exercise his art gratis, the art is not the less
complete in itself, and not the less promotes the
good of the subject, though it brings no gain to
the master. And thus, every art, as we said before,
11
promotes the good of its subjects, the weaker
party, not of the stronger.
Thrasymachus assents with reluctance to this
reasoning, as feeling that it refutes his thesis.
Socrates goes on to say that no one takes the
part of a Ruler willingly, and manages other
people's affairs, without requiring payment in some
shape : either money or honour, or penalty for not
doing so.
This introduces the Socratic tenet,—so often
dwelt upon in these Dialogues, and acted upon in
a great measure by Socrates and Plato, as to the
public affairs of Athens,—that no wise man meddles
with affairs of state if he can help it. The assertion
of the tenet in this form calls forth an
expression of surprise from Glaucon, the admirer
of Socrates. He says :
19 " How do you mean this, Socrates ? I know
two of the kinds of payment of which you speak,
money and honours ; but I do not know what
penalty you mean, which you rank among the
motives to undertake the office of Ruler."
Socrates explains that to undertake such office
for the sake of money or honour is base, as it
•
THRASYMACHUS. 37
is generally held discreditable : men who do so
are called avaricious and ambitious. The great
motive which induces good men to take such
offices, is to avoid being ruled by the bad. If
there was a state composed entirely of good men,
they would struggle as hard to avoid the office
of Ruler as men• now do to get it. Every one
would prefer having his advantage promoted by
others, rather than take that trouble himself. But
this he says he will consider another time.
And then he turns back to the assertion of
Thrasymachus, that the life of the unjust man is
better than that of the just man. " That," says
he, " appears to me a greater matter ; and you,
Glaucon, which part do you choose? which side
appears to you the more true?"
" I think," says Glaucon, " that the life of the
just man is the more advantageous."
" You have heard," said I, " how many advantages
Thrasymachus has enumerated in the life
of the unjust man ?"
" I have heard," said he, " but I am not convinced."
" And do you wish that we should convince
him, if we can find the way to do it, that he is
wrong ?"
" How can I help wishing it ?" said he.
" But if we try to do this by a counter-enumera- 20
tion of the advantages of the just man, and then
he makes another enumeration on his side, and
again we on ours, we shall have to count and
measure these advantages on each side, and shall
want an umpire to decide the preponderance in
the end. But if we go on as we have hitherto
done, coming to an agreement on the grounds of
our opinion, we shall ourselves be the advocates
and the umpire."
38 THE REPUBLIC.
" Even so," said he.
" And which way do you like best?" said I.
" The latter," said he.
Socrates then again applies himself to
Thrasymachus : but so far as the argument depends on
the terms used, it is difficult to express it in English,
as indeed Plato allows that it is difficult
in Greek. For Thrasymachus so far deviates from
all received usage of language, that he refuses to
acknowledge that Justice is a Virtue and Injustice
a Vice. " It is very likely," he says ironically,
" that I shall acknowledge this, my pleasant
friend, when I say that Injustice is profitable, and
Justice not so."—" How then ?" says Socrates.-
" The contrary," said he.—" What ? do you call
Justice a Vice ?" " Not exactly, but a magnanimous
Simplicity."—" Then I suppose you call
Injustice a Duplicity."—" No, I call it Prudence."
He goes on to say that the unjust are sagacious
and clever, provided only their injustice is on a
grand scale, so that they bring under their sway
cities and nations. " You perhaps," he says,
" think that I mean pickpockets. No ! That employment
too has its gainful results, if the man
escape detection ; but that is a small matter compared
with such courses as I speak of."
Socrates is, of course, perplexed by this utter
rejection of the common moral judgments, and
inversion of the common moral language usual
among men ; he says :
" I am aware that you intend to say what you
have just said. But what I marvel at is, that
you place injustice in the province of wisdom and
virtue." " But," says Thrasymachus doggedly,
" I do so place them." " That makes our task
harder, my friend, and it is difficult to see what
any one can say. If you said that injustice was
THRASYMACH us. 39
gainful indeed, but still acknowledged it to be
wicked and disgraceful, as some others do, we
might have said something according to the usual
views of morality. But now it is clear that you
will say that injustice is beautiful and strong, and
has all the attributes which we ascribe to justice."
—" You guess rightly," says Thrasymachus.
Still Socrates does not lose courage. " Well,"
he says, " I must not give it up, so long as I
conceive you to think what you say. And really,
Thrasymachus, you seem to me to be not in jest,
but in earnest."—" But what difference does it
make to you," said he, " whether I am in earnest
or not, while you do not confute me ?"—" No difference,"
said I.
And then Socrates sets about the task which
he has acknowledged to be so difficult, of refuting
the bold immorality of his opponent. He begins
thus :
" Try to answer me this question, in addition
to what you have already answered : does a just
man wish to get the better of a just man?"
But I do not think it would be possible to
make this part of the meaning intelligible to the
English reader by following the interlocutions. I
will try to give the reasoning in a direct form.
The reasoning is exceedingly subtle and general;
and yet Thrasymachus is represented, when
it draws near its conclusion, as becoming aware of
his approaching defeat, answering reluctantly and
sullenly, sweating profusely, and even blushing ;
" which," says Socrates, " I never saw him do
before" (§ 22). We must attempt therefore to put
this argument in a shape in which its force may
appear, so far as the different habits of expression
and thinking of the Athenians of that day, and our
own, will allow us to do.
40 THE REPUBLIC.
" A wise and skilful man in any art," Socrates
argues, "does not try to do something different from
other wise and skilful men in the same art. The
accomplished musician does not attempt, in the tension
of strings, or relation of acute and grave, to go
beyond other good musicians. The good physician
does not try to exceed other good physicians in his
doses, or in his treatment of the patient. The man
ignorant of music might indeed try to go beyond
both musical and unmusical persons in his futile
attempts at harmony. The man ignorant of medicine
might try to go beyond both the learned and
21 the unlearned in his essays. And thus a man who
is good and skilful in anything, though he may try
to excel the ignorant, and to go beyond them, does
not aim at excelling the good and skilful, but at
being on even terms with them. Now the just
man, in like manner, though he may hope to excel
the unjust in justice, and so to get an advantage
over him, does not hope to excel the just man, but
is content to be on even terms with him: while
the unjust man tries to get an advantage over just
and unjust men alike, and is not content with
being on even terms with anybody. And thus
the just man agrees in his habits and aims with
the wise and skilful or virtuous man, while the
unjust differs entirely from him. And thus Justice,
and not Injustice, is to be ranked with Wisdom
and perfect Skill and Virtue."
This argument can hardly fail to appear to us
forced and farfetched. It depends upon a notion
of something which Plato calls' going beyond men,
getting an advantage over them, and the like : which
notion is understood so widely, that it applies alike
to the bungling attempts of the unmusical man at
harmony, and the selfish schemes of the unjust
e0Accp rXeoy exetv—rXeovercreiv.
THRASYMACHUS. 41
man for gain. Plato elsewhere uses the same
phrase so as to associate with it in like manner
both an action towards a person, and a relation to
a standard. Thus in the third Book of the Laws,
he says that the early kings of Greece fell, because
they wished 7TXEOVEKTEEV TC151, 1161.1.1011, to get an advantage
over the laws as opponents, and to go beyond
the laws as a rule. It is difficult for us to
put this argument of Socrates in any form in which
we shall compel conviction: but this may be considered
as really the amount of it :—Every art and
every definite course of action implies a rule, a
standard of action, an ideal completeness, at which
the artist or actor aims. He who is not an artist
in any true sense, or a person acting on any real
principle, may have no rule : he may be governed
by mere desire of gain or pleasure, or by caprice,
and may conform to no rule, but follow arbitrary
courses. But those who act as wise and skilful artists,
or men, have a standard and a rule given by
their art; which, because it is a rule and a standard,
is the same for all, and is tacitly recognized
by all as the same. Now a just man is a man who
in moral action owns such a standard and rule of
action, and in this agrees with all other just m m :
while the unjust man acknowledges no rule, but
seeks the objects of his desires wherever they offer
themselves. And thus the just man acts as wise
and skilful men act, and Justice is to rank with
Wisdom and Skill in the regulation of human life.
I do not think we need hesitate to allow validity
to this line of argument, although it is founded
upon that confusion of skill in some Art with
Moral Rectitude, on which I have elsewhere remarked.
But though it might have its effect upon
a metaphysical Athenian who was accustomed to
arrange human actions according to the arts to
42 THE REPUBLIC.
which they belonged, and was familiar with the
mTaeltia, pith aypspiceaalr ass t ow emlle a tsh patr iimtsa pryr osbeanbseles eofff e7crtX ueopvoeKn- 1
Thrasymachus is much exaggerated in the representation
which the dialogue gives. It would have
appeared very natural if Thrasymachus, instead of
following Socrates's interrogations with his reluctant
and sullen answers, had exclaimed, that there
was no resemblance between a man's trying to get
gold and treasure from another, and a man trying
to tune his harp higher or lower than another.
But in this, as in other cases, the Socratic saw of
question and answer is supposed to be worked under
a sort of fascination. They who have once laid
their hands upon it cannot quit their hold, but go
working on till the block is sawn through.
23 There are still two arguments which the dialogue
contains, directed to the question of whether
Injustice is, as Thrasymachus had said, more advantageous
than Justice. The first of these arguments
is a plain and common one : that when
persons are confederated for any purpose, even if 1
the common purpose be unjust, it is requisite that
the confederates behave justly to one another. If
they do not, then ensue discord, strife, disunion
and weakness : and thus Injustice is a manifest
disadvantage.
But the main purpose of this argument is to
lead to an extension of it, which is rather indicated
than fully explained in this Book, and which
indeed it is the business of the succeeding Books
fully to explain. I mean, the argument that Injustice
is a Discord of the Soul in itself, and therefore
an unhappiness. This doctrine is somewhat
abruptly introduced in sequence to that which I
have already noticed, that Injustice is a cause of
24 strife among confederates. For Socrates goes on
THRASYMACHUS. 43
to infer that, as it produces this discord and consequent
weakness in a body of confederates, or a
state, or a company even of two only, it must have
the same nature when it exists in one person.
Even in a single person its nature will appear.
It will produce a discord in the man's self, which
will weaken his powers of action. Each part of
the soul does its proper work; as a pruning-knife
prunes, so the soul governs and rules. This view
becomes much more distinct, as I have said, in
the subsequent Books of this Dialogue, in which
the parts of the Soul are distinguished from each
other, and thence, the image of a discord or strife
of the soul becomes more plain and intelligible,
and is followed out into very remarkable passages
of description.
This assertion that Injustice is the cause of an
internal discord, and therefore, of unhappiness in
a man's being, is finally further supported by an
argument which is a kind of corollary from what
had been already said, that Justice is the virtue
and Injustice the vice of the Soul. For the Soul
is that by which we live. This is the especial
function of the Soul. As therefore the Soul is
virtuous or vicious, we must live well or ill, that
is, happily or unhappily. And this, even
Thrasymachus is unable further to gainsay.
And Socrates ends this part of the Dialogue
by reminding Thrasymachus that this is the contrary
of what he had asserted ; and Thrasymachus
retorts that he supposes Socrates has had the enjoyment
of a feast in the conversation which has
led to such a result.
Soc. " And so, most excellent Thrasymachus,
Injustice is never more profitable than Justice."
" And let this," said he, " be your Bendidian
banquet."
44 THE REPUBLIC.
" A banquet provided by you, since you became
gentle to me, and ceased to be angry with
me. But my feast has been but a poor one, not
by your fault, but by mine. I have been like a
glutton who throws himself greedily upon every
fresh dish as it comes to table, without having
duly enjoyed what was there before. Just in the
same way, before I had made out our first subject
of inquiry, 'What is Justice? I left it to run to consider
whether Justice is Vice and Folly, or Virtue
and Wisdom ; and then, when the new proposition
was started, that Injustice is more profitable than
Justice, I did not command myself, but left the
former and turned to that : and so the end of the
discussion is, that I have made out nothing. When
I know what Justice is, I shall easily make out
whether it is Virtue or not, and whether he who
has it is or is not happy."
REMARKS ON THE THRASYMACHUS.
THE extravagant representation -which this Dialogue contains
of Thrasymachus's rude and overbearing manner suggests the notion
that Plato intends the picture to be that of a real person, a
rival of his own. Philostratus remarks (De Vit. Sophist.), that
when Plato says to his adversary, " Do you think I am so mad
as to set about shaving a lion or quibbling with Thrasymachus ?"
he does not treat him like a sophist merely. And we have
seen, in the Clitophon, Thrasymachus brought forward as a
teacher, in opposition to Socrates, who might be expected to supply 1
what Socrates left wanting ; the subject in discussion being, in
REMARKS ON THE THRASYMACHUS. 45
that Dialogue as in this, Dikaiosyne, Justice. The supposition
that personal satire as well as argument is intended in this Dialogue,
is further supported by the disproportion, as it appears to
us, between the arguments of Socrates and the effect produced
by them upon Thrasymachus ; as when he is going to run away,
having deluged the hearers with a flood of declamation ; and
where he turns sulky, and sweats, and even blushes. It looks very
personal when Socrates says, " I never saw him do that before."
The historical Thrasymachus of Chalcedon is mentioned by
Cicero, Quintilian, and other ancient authors, as a writer rather
than a speaker. He appears to have been a contemporary of
Gorgias, and therefore too old to be a personal rival of Plato.
The doctrine asserted by Thrasymachus, and the arguments by
which it is opposed, are not very different from the doctrine maintained
by Callicles in the Gorgias, and the arguments urged
against that. But, as Mr Grote has observed, though the doctrine
of Thrasymachus is opposed to the common notions of
morality, the more offensive feature of his conversation is the
rudeness, insolence and brutality with which his opinions are
delivered. When divested of these accompaniments, his arguments
are (in the next Book) adopted by Glaucon and Adeimantus
; at least as a way of provoking Socrates to expound his
views.
THE REPUBLIC.
PART II.—OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF
VIRTUE.
(Republic, B. H. § 1-15. B. iii. § 19-21.
B. iv. § 1-17.)
THE first Book of the Republic, the Thrasy
machus, is employed, as I have said, in
establishing what Justice is not: in the subsequent
part of the Dialogue Socrates has to define
what it is, and to prove its advantages. But before
he is allowed to do this, his two friendly auditors,
Glaucon and Adeimantus, propound to him the
disadvantages which belong to the Just Man's condition,
in a manner not less forcible than his rude
opponent Thrasymachus had done ; and after this
we have Socrates's exposition of the nature of
Justice, or as we may rather say, Virtue, by the
analogy of an Ideal City. To these objections and
the consequent answers we now proceed.
" When I had said this, I thought I had done
with the discussion ; but as it turned out, this was
only a beginning. For Glaucon, who is always full
of courage, showed it then, and did not acquiesce
in Thrasymachus's acknowledgment of defeat. He
said :
" Now, Socrates, whether do you wish merely
to make believe that you convince us, or really to
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 47
convince us that Justice is in all respects better
than Injustice?"
" I should certainly like to convince you
really," I said, " if it depended upon me. —
" Then," said he, " you do not do what you wish."
Glaucon then proceeds to expound his objections
somewhat methodically, in a way which I
must abridge.
" There are," he says, " good things which are
desired for their own sake, not for their consequences,
as joy and innocent pleasures, which have
no evil sequel. There are things which we desire
both for the sake of themselves and of their consequences
; as our reason, our sight, our health.
There is a third class of good things, as exercise,
and medical diet, and medical treatment, and professional
work. These we regard as laborious or
troublesome, but useful. We should not take to
them on their own account ; but we take them for
their rewards and consequences."
To all this Socrates assents.
" Now to which of these three classes of good
things does Justice belong?"
" I think," said I, " to the best class ; the things
which are desired both for their own sake, and for
their consequences."
" But,' said he, " that is not the opinion of the
many. They think that it belongs to the laborious
class, which is to be pursued for the sake of reward
and good reputation, but is itself hard and repulsive."
" Yes, I know," said I, " that it seems so ; and 2
I have been hearing a great deal from Thrasymachus
in condemnation of Justice on this account,
and in praise of Injustice ; but I suppose I
am slow to take in such things, for I am not convinced."

48 THE REPUBLIC.
" Well," said he, " listen to me and understand.
Thrasymachus appears to me to have
yielded too soon to your powers of fascination. I
am not satisfied with the way in which either side
has been managed. I want to be told what Justice
and what Injustice is, and what effect each produces
upon the soul when it is there ; I would have
nothing said of rewards and consequences. Do
this then. I will take up again the thesis of
Thrasymachus. I will first show what Justice is,
and what is its origin. Next I will show that those
who adopt it, take it, as a necessary evil, not as a
good: for, as they say, the life of the unjust man is
happier than that of the just man. They say this.
I, Socrates, do not think so. But I am stunned by
hearing such things perpetually from Thrasymachus
and a thousand others ; and I have never yet
heard the case of Justice pleaded, and its superiority
over Injustice shown, in the way that I could
wish. I wish to hear it praised on its own
account '• and I especially wish. to hear this from
you. So I shall state the case in favour of an unjust
life ; and by that you will see in what manner
I want you to establish the case in favour of
Justice. Do you like this proposal?"
" Of all things," said I. " What subject could
be more agreeable to a man of any sense ?"
" Good," said he. " Then listen first about
what I first spoke ; what Justice is, as they say,
and whence it has its origin."
He then delivers the doctrine of those who
hold that the origin of Rights, and thence, of
Justice, is merely self-protection.
" They say that to do wrong is a good, to suffer
wrong an evil ; but that the evil of wrong-suffering
is greater than the good of wrong-doing ; so
that when men have had experience of both, as
•
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 49
they find they cannot choose the one and reject
the other, they think it best to make an agreement
among themselves that they shall neither do nor
suffer wrong. And hence they make Contracts and
Laws, and call that which the Laws command
lawful and just. And this is the origin of Justice.
It is an intermediate condition between the best,
which is to do wrong and not to be called to account
for it, and the worst, which is to suffer wrong
and to have no redress. Justice, thus an intermediate
state, is acquiesced in, not as good in itself,
but as recommended by the inability to do wrong
with impunity. For if a man could do that, he
would never be so mad as to make such an agreement.
And this, they say, is the nature and origin 3
of Justice.
"And that they who practise Justice, do so unwillingly,
because they cannot practise Injustice
with impunity, we shall best see, if we imagine a
case in which each, the Just and the Unjust, has
power to do what he likes, and then follow them in
thought, and see where their desires lead them to.
We should find the just man caught in the fact of
following, as well as the unjust man, the universal
desire of having a greater share than others ; a
desire which is led to acquiesce in an equal division
only by law and by force.
" As a case in which a man would have such a
power, we may take the story of Gyges, the ancestor
of Crcesus king of Lydia. He, it is related, was a
common shepherd in the service of the then ruler
of Lydia ; and where he fed his flocks, it happened,
in consequence of a wet season, that a great
chasm in the earth was opened. He went into
this chasm, and there he saw many wonderful
things, and among the rest a horse of brass, hollow,
and with a door into the hollow. Into thsi door
PLAT. In.
50 THE REPUBLIC.
he looked, and saw within the gigantic corpse of
a man ; and this corpse had nothing on it except
a gold ring on its hand, which he drew off and
took away. And when the monthly meeting
the shepherds took place, at which they prepared
their report to the king, he came to the meeting
with the ring on his finger, and sat down,
having, as it happened, the stone of the ring
turned to the inside of his hand ; and then he
found that he was invisible to those who were
there, for they talked of him as if he were absent.
And he, wondering at this, turned the stone of the
ring to the outside, and then he became visible.
And revolving this in his mind, he made trials of
the ring, and found that when he turned the stone
inwards he was invisible, and when he turned it
outwards he was visible. And upon this, he
managed to be sent as one of the deputation which
went to the king. And when he came there, he
seduced the queen, and conspired with her, and
killed the king, and became king himself.
4 " Now if there were two such rings," Glaucon
goes on to say, " and if one were given to the just
and one to the unjust man, the conduct of the two,
as your opponents assert, would be the same. There
is no one so adamantine in his virtue, that he
would refrain from using such a power, when he
might take from any house or shop whatever he
pleased, enter whose bed he pleased, put to death
or bring out of prison whom he pleased ; and in
short be like a god among men. And so, he
would do exactly what the unjust man would do ;
there would be no difference between them. Now
this, it is urged, is a clear proof that men are
virtuous only by compulsion. Virtue is not prized
for its own sake. When a man can do wrong with
impunity, he does it. Every man thinks that to
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. a
do wrong is more advantageous to him than to do
right ; and he thinks truly, as they say. And if
any one, having such a power as we have spoken of,
did not use it for his own advantage, he would
really be thought a wretched and foolish person,
though men might praise him to one another, for
fear of the wrong that might come to them. This
is what they say."
The case, thus stated, seems strongly put ;
but Glaucon goes further.
" Let us take Justice and Injustice nakedly in
themselves, without any accessories. We must
suppose each to be perfect in its way. And so we
must suppose the Unjust Man to be a perfect master
of his art. As a perfect pilot or a perfect physician
knows, with regard to things within the province
of his art, what is possible and what is not,
and attempts only what is possible ; or, if he
makes a mistake is able to rectify it ; so the consummate
Wrong-doer must have the art of concealing
his wrong-doing. If he is detected he is a
bungler. And the summit of his art is to seem a
just man. In order to make him complete, then,
we must allow him this. We must suppose, that
while he commits extreme wrong, he gets himself
the reputation of being entirely a just man ;—that
if anything goes wrong in his plans, he can set it
right by eloquence or by force ; for we suppose him
to be eloquent, and brave, and well-furnished with
friends.
" And side by side with him we place the really
Just Man ; a man simple and open, and, as
Æschylus says, one who aims to be good, not to seem.
For if he seem to be a just man, he will gain
honours and rewards by his seeming ; and so, we
shall not know whether he is just for the sake of
justice, or for the sake of these rewards. And so
E2
52 THE REPUBLIC.
we must strip him of all except his justice. We
must make him the opposite of the former case in
every respect. We must suppose that though he
does no wrong, he is held to be a great
wrong-doer ; in order that his firmnes in the cause of
virtue may be tried by evil repute and its consequences.
He must be constant even to death.
And then let any one say which of the two, the
Just or the Unjust, is the happier."
5 The case is strongly put, as Socrates notices.
" Bless us !" said I, " my dear Glaucon, how
clearly and distinctly do you put before us the
images of these two men."
" I do it as well as I can," said he. " And
the two men being such as I have described them,
it is not, I think, difficult to go on to the end, and
to see what fortune awaits each of them. And in
doing this, if I say anything which appears too
strong, do not think, Socrates, that it is I who say
it, but those who praise Injustice above Justice.
Now they will say that the Just Man, being such
as has been described, will suffer stripes, bonds,
the rack, will have his eyes burnt out, and after
all other sufferings, will be crucified. And then
he will know how much better it is to seem than
to be Just. The Unjust Man, on the other hand,
will succeed in everything—in marriage, in friendships,
in public life, in acquiring wealth. And so,
he is able to offer to the Gods sacrifices and oblations,
more costly and magnificent than the just
man can give, and so may appear to be more
favoured by the Gods than the just man. And so,
they say, Socrates, That the just man has a better
life provided for him both by Gods and by men."
The case so stated reminds us of that in the
Gorgias (§ 68), where, however, it is not the Just
and the Unjust man that are compared, but the
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 53
unjust man who is punished and he who escapes
punishment. The object of these highly-coloured
pictures is, as I have said in speaking of the Gorgias
(§ 165), to show that Plato's convictions,
like Socrates's, were not to be shaken by the aspect
of death in any form ; and to bring forward,
with the utmost distinctness, the problem, What is
the value of Virtue or Rectitude, separated from
all accessories. In the Gorgias the answer is
given, somewhat loosely, that Vice is a disease
of the Soul. In the Republic this answer is expanded
and put in a systematic form.
But before we come to this answer, we have a
further development of the case on the opposite
side by Adeimantus, the brother of Glaucon.
" When Glaucon had said this," Socrates goes 6
on, " I was thinking of saying something in reply
;" but his brother Adeimantus said :
" And you now think, Socrates, that the question
has been sufficiently set forth ?"
" Why what more is there to be said ?" I
inquired.
" The main point which should have been put
forwards," said he, " has not been touched."
" Ha !" said I, " the old proverb ! brother
helps brother. If he has omitted anything, do
you help him out. But what he has said is
enough to put me down, so that I cannot uphold
the cause of Justice."
He replied : " You cannot get off so. But hear
still more. You must hear what is said by people
who talk in a way quite different from that in
which he has been talking,—people who praise
Justice and blame Injustice ; and then you will
see still more clearly what Glaucon means."
He then proceeds to show the inconsistency of
the way in which men at that time talked of reli-
54 THE REPUBLIC.
gious subjects ; " saying, in general, that the Gods
approve of Justice and punish Injustice ; but yet
in particular cases making the Gods themselves
unjust." The illustrations of this remark introduce
many quotations from the poets, especially
Homer. _le proceeds thus :
" Fathers and instructors of every kind are unceasing
in their exhortations to those under their
care, that they must be just and virtuous. In
doing this, however, they do not praise justice or
virtue in itself, but the results of a good repute of
justice and virtue ;—how that it brings honours,
and great alliances in marriage, and other advantages,
such as Glaucon was enumerating a little
while ago. They go even further : they extend
the advantage of possessing such a character, even
to its influence on the Gods. They, it is asserted,
give bounteous blessings to the virtuous, as the
amiable Hesiod and Homer sing. The former
says that for the just the Gods make the oaks
`Bear on their summit the acorn, in their trunk the honey
of wild bees,
While flocks heavy with fleeces around them browse in the
meadow ;
and many other good things of the same kind.
And the other (Homer) sings to the like purpose:
he speaks of (Odyss. xix. 133)
`The praise of some great king
Who o'er a numerous people and renown'd
Presiding like a Deity maintains
Justice and truth. The earth under his sway
The produce yields abundantly : the trees
Fruit-laden bend : the lusty flocks bring forth :
The ocean teems with finny swarms beneath.'
And Musaeus and his son make the gods give still
greater boons to the Just. They make them go
to Hades and sit at their ease in a symposium of
the blest, with crowns on their heads and goblets
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 55
of wine before them ; reckoning, it would seem,
perpetual wine-bibbing to be the highest reward of
virtue. Others, again, make the Gods give rewards
of longer duration : they say that the just and
pious have, to succeed them, the sons of sons and
new generations still. This is the kind of praise
which they give to justice. While the impious
and unjust they plunge into the mire in Hades,
and make them draw water in a sieve : and even
while they are alive, they are punished by that
evil repute which Glaucon spoke of, in describing
just men who are reckoned unjust. They say
such things of the unjust; and that is all that they
have to say. And this is the way they assign
praise and blame.
" But now, Socrates, attend to language of another
kind, concerning Justice and Injustice, which
you may hear, both from ordinary persons and
from the poets. They all with one voice sing the '
same song;—that virtue and justice are indeed
beautiful things, but that they are hard and laborious
; that vice and injustice are sweet and easy
in practice, and wrong only by opinion and law.
They say that generally injustice is more profitable
than justice, and they are disposed to respect
and to esteem happy the wicked who are rich and
powerful, and to despise and slight the just man
who is weak and poor, though they allow that he
is a better man than the other.
" But most especially strange is the language
which many hold about virtue in reference to the
Gods. For they say that often the Gods send to virtuous
men calamity and evil, and prosperity to the
wicked. And there are itinerant priests and soothsayers,
who go round to the doors of the rich,
and persuade them that they have a power granted
them from on high, of expiating with sacrifices
•
56 THE REPUBLIC.
and ceremonies any injustice that may have been
committed by them or any of their family before
them, and they make such things occasions of
festivals and banquets. And if any one have an
enemy whom he wishes to injure, they pretend
that they can, if he be a good man just as easily
as if he be a bad man, bring evil upon him at a
small cost ; by their incantations and charms compelling
the Gods to minister to their will.
" And all this they confirm by what the poets
say ; they make vice an easy thing, as Hesiod,
Broad is the way of vice and frequent thronged,
Easy to hit, and ever close at hand ;
But sweat and hardship stand at virtue's door :'
and the way is long and steep. And to prove
that the favour of the gods may be won, they
quote Homer (Ii. ix. 616) :
`The Gods,
Although more honourable, and in power
And virtue thus superior, are themselves
Yet placable ; and if a mortal man
Offend them by transgression of their laws,
Libation, incense, sacrifice, and prayer,
In meeknses offer'd, turn their wrath away.'
And they appeal to a multitude of writings of
Musaeus and Orpheus, and of the children of the
Moon, and of the Muses, as they say, from whom
they take the precepts Of their proceedings : and
they obtain the confidence, not only of individuals
but of cities ; and persuade them that certain ceremonies,
accompanied by festivals, may expiate the
crimes of the living, and even of the dead. These
ceremonies they call the Mysteries of Purification:
and these they say preserve us from evil in that
other world; and if we omit them, leave us to a
dreadful destiny.
8 "All this," said he, "0 Socrates, and much
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 57
more of the same kind is said about virtue and
vice • and the way in which they are looked upon
by Gods and men. And now, what are we to suppose
will be the impression left by this upon the
mind of a young man of good disposition, who can
put together what is said? What will he judge
as to the course he should take and the life he
should lead ? He might very reasonably say with
Pindar,
Shall I the lofty steep,
By force, of Justice scale ?
Or, using arts oblique,
Guarding myself from harm,
So tread the safest path ?
For it follows from what is said, that if I be just,
and be not known to be so, I get no good of it,
but pain and loss ; and if I be unjust and held
for just, my life may be blest. Since then, even
as the wise (Simonides) says, Seeming does more
than Truth and gives us Happiness,' that must be
my course. I must hold before my face the mask
of virtue, and be behind it the clever fox which the
wise poet Archilochus speaks of.
" But, some one will say, It is not easy to be
wicked, and always to escape detection.' We
reply, Nothing which is great is easy ; but if we
would be happy, that is the way to take, as the
general tenour of what has been said shows. We
will protect ourselves against discovery by combining
with confederates ; we will have masters to
teach us how to speak persuasively in political or
in judicial assemblies, and so to escape punishment.
" But with the Gods we can neither escape detection
nor punishment, it will be said.—If either
there are no Gods, or if they care not for human
affairs, we need not care to escape their notice.
But if there are Gods, and they do watch over the
58 THE REPUBLIC.
deeds of men, we know it only from what we
have heard from tradition and from the mythological
poets. And the same poets tell u$ that we
can avert the wrath of the Gods by prayers and
offerings. We must believe both parts of the
story or neither. If we are virtuous we escape .
punishment from the gods, but we lose the gains
of injustice. If we take the course of injustice we
obtain its gains, and by our devotional acts gain
pardon from the Gods.
" But (it will be said) we shall be punished in
Hades for the crimes which we commit here, we or
our children's children. But the well-informed man
will reply, There are means of expiation to avert
this ; and such is the doctrine received by great
states, and taught by the prophets of the Gods,
and by the poets, the sons of the Gods.
9 " What possible ground is there then to prefer
justice to injustice, however extreme the latter be?
For if we cover injustice with a decent outside, we
shall obtain our desires from men and from Gsod,
in death and in life.
" After what has been said, Socrates, how can
any man of any vigour of mind or body, of temper
or genius, I will not say have any reverence for
Justice, but not laugh at hearing it praised ? And
even if any one can show that what we have been
saying is false, and prove that Justice is the best of
things, yet still we ought to have great indulgence
for unjust men, and not be indignant against them.
For every one must know that, excepting a few persons
of a naturally good disposition, and a few who
have received good instruction, there is no one who is
just willingly ; but that it is cowardice, or old age,
or some other weakness, which makes him blame
injustice, because he is unable to commit it. And
it is evident that this is so ; for every man, as soon
•
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 59
as he gets the power, does injustice, to such extent
as he can."
It must be allowed that the defence of Injustice
is strongly and ingeniously urged. To Plato it
seemed proper to put the difficulty in all its force,
and in all its extent, before proceeding to solve it.
In the statement of the inconsistencies and absurdities
of the views of the Gods which the Greek
poets taught, we shall see nothing which need
surprise us, or disturb us ; possessing as we do,
a better faith and hope. But the main object is,
as we have said, to propose it as a problem for the
imaginary Socrates, to establish the superiority of
Justice or Virtue over the contrary, independent
of all consequences ; and this Adeimantus once
again says in concluding.
" The cause of all this inconsistency," he says,
"resides in that which was the origin both of my
brother's discourse to you, Socrates, and of mine :
that those, my good sir, who have praised virtue
and justice, beginning from those who have lauded
the ancient heroes, have all, up to the present
time, never praised Justice otherwise than by
speaking of the repute and honour and advantage
which proceed from it. No one has, either in
verse or in prose, attempted to shew what each is,
as it exists in the mind of man ;—that, being there,
Injustice, even if it remain unseen by Gods and men,
is the greatest of evils, Justice the greatest good. If
this were the line taken, this the doctrine inculcated
by you our elders upon us from our earliest
years, we should have no occasion to keep a guard
over each other to prevent wrong-doing ; each
would be his own best guardian, avoiding
wrong-doing as a thing bringing the greatest evil on
himself.
" This, Socrates, and more than this, Thrasy-
60 THE REPUBLIC.
machus, or some other might say, in praise of 11
Injustice, in blame of Justice ; inverting their true
character, in an odious manner, as I think. But I
give you the whole of it, wishing to hear your
reply, and putting the case as completely as I can.
Do you then show us, not only that Justice is
preferable to Injustice, but show what good and
what evil, respectively, they bring to the possessor
of them'. Show what good the one, what evil the
other does, even if it remain concealed from Gods
and men."
This is the problem which Socrates has to
solve ; before doing so, he pays compliments to his
opponents, or rather, questioners.
10 " I," he says, " had always admired the intellectual
character of Glaucon and Adeimantus, and I
was on this occasion especially delighted with the
way in which it showed itself, and I said :
" Not without reason, 0 sons of an honoured
father, did Glaucon's admirer address you in the
ode which he wrote when you had distinguished
yourselves in the battle of Megara :
`Ariston's sons, offspring divine of one
Himself illustrious. '
" This, my friends, appears to me well said ;
for you really have more than human endowments
if, while you do not believe Injustice to be
better than Justice, you can speak so forcibly in its
defence. And I really think that you do not so
believe. I form this opinion from your demeanour
on other occasions ; for judging from what you
have now said, I should have thought otherwise.
" But in proportion as I think thus, I am all the
more at a loss what line I shall take. I do not see
how I am to maintain the cause of Justice. It
I I omit some sentences of repetition.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 61
seems that I can say nothing which will produce
any effect. And that it is so, I may see by this,
that what I said to Thrasymachus, thinking that
thereby I proved Justice to be better than Injustice,
fails to satisfy you. And yet on the other hand, I
do not know how I can refuse to maintain the
cause of Justice. For I am afraid it would be a
wicked thing for me, being present when Justice is
attacked, to desert her cause, and not stand by her
so long as I breathe, and have the power to utter.
And so, it is right that I should take up the cause
and defend it as best I may.
" On this Glaucon and the others besought me
by all means to undertake the cause, and not to
give up the subject; but to carry to the end the
examination of the question what Justice and Injustice,
Right and Wrong, really are ; and what
is the benefit which each brings.
" So I said, as I really thought, that the inquiry
thus asked for is no easy matter, and requires
a sharp sight. And as we are," said I, " unable to
see our way into it, let us take a course of this
kind : If a person whose eyesight was not very
good had to read at a distance something written
in small letters : and if he then should find
that there are the same letters in another place
on a larger scale ; he would think it• an admirable
invention to read the larger inscription first,
then to make out the smaller, arid to see if it
really is the same."
" Certainly," said Adeimantus, " it would be
so : but what do you see of this kind, Socrates,
relative to our inquiry ?"
" I will tell you," said I. " Justice is something
which belongs to an individual Man : but it
is also something which belongs to a whole State.
But a state is greater than a man. It may be then
62 THE REPUBLIC.
that in that case, Justice appears on a larger scale,
and more easy to decipher. If you please, therefore,
let us first examine what Justice is in a state,
and then let us consider what it is in an individual
man ; and thus discern in little what we
see an image of in great."
Adeimantus assents to these assertions, and approves
the proposed course ; and thus we enter
upon that descriptive comparison of the constitution
of the state and of the individual, which
makes the subject of this Dialogue, the Polity.
The state or city (Polls) is traced from its
origin in considerable detail : so considerable indeed,
as to countenance the opinion that the political
as well as the ethical bearing of the subject was
important in the mind of the writer. Socrates
proceeds :
" This being so, if in our thoughts we were
to trace a State or City from its first origin, we
should see also the origin of Justice and Injustice
?"—" Perhaps."
" And so by such a speculation, we might hope
more easily to find what we seek. Shall we then
by this course ? It will be no light undertaking.
Consider then, whether we shall set about it."
" We have sufficiently considered," said Adeimantus.
".Set about it without scruple."
Socrates then begins ; his hearers assenting as
he goes on.
11 " A City has its origin, as I conceive, in this :
that each of us is not self-sufficing, but needs the
aid of others. An individual joins with himself
one man on account of one need, another, of another
; and so by the multiplicity of his needs he
has to bring together many into one dwellingplace,
helpers and companions; and this assemblage
he calls Polls, a city.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 63
" And he imparts to others what he has, and
receives from them what they can give, seeking
his advantage therein. So when in thought we
follow the origin of a city, the original foundation
is our needs.
" Now the first need, and the greatest of all, is
the need of food such as life requires.
" The next need is that of a habitation ; the
third, that of clothing, and the like.
" Now how is the city to provide for these
needs ? How otherwise than thus ? one man must
be a husbandman ; another a house-builder; another
a weaver ; and so on. We may add a shoemaker,
and the like. And so the city which provides for
the merest necessities must consist of four or five
men.
"Now shall each of these exercise his special
art for the common benefit of all ? Thus, shall
the husbandman prepare food for four, and spend
four times as much time upon it, as he would for
himself alone, and let the others share? or do
nothing for them, but employ one quarter of his
time and labour to provide food for himself, and
spend the remaining three-fourths of his time partly
in building his own house, partly in making his
own coat, partly in making his own shoes ?"
It is answered that the former is the better
course.
" Yes," says Socrates. " You may say that
different people have different endowments. One
man can do one thing better, another, another. A
man can work better who works at one art, than
one who works at several. Also when a man
does not do anything at the right time, time is
lost. The work will not wait for the leisure of the
workman. The workman must follow his business
as a principal business, not as by-work. And
64 THE REPUBLIC.
•
so, work is better done and easier, and more of
it, when a man does what he has a gift for, at
the proper occasion, as his business, leaving other
things to others."
This argument, to show the advantage of the
division of labour, may remind us of Adam Smith's
discussion on the same subject. Socrates goes on
to extend his city. He says :
"But, 0 Adeimantus, we should want more
than four workmen for our needs. The husbandman
cannot make his own plough, if it is to
be a good one, nor the other agricultural implements.
Nor can the builder make his own tools,
and many tools does he need. And so the weaver
and the shoemaker. And so we must have carpenters
and smiths and many other such artisans ;
and so our little city will become a large one. It
will not increase it too much if we add cowherds,
and shepherds and herdsmen of other kinds ; that
the husbandmen may have oxen to plough with,
and the builders cattle to draw their warns, and
the weaver and shoemaker may have wool and
leather."
" The city which is to contain all these," says
the friend, " will not be a small one."
" And yet," Socrates goes on, " it is almost I
impossible to plant our city in such a position that
it shall not have need of foreign imports. And so
we must have other persons who must bring to
us from other cities what we need. And these
persons would go in vain and come back empty,
if they did not take something which those need
who are to supply our needs. And so our people
must not only manufacture what they need themselves,
but also such things, and such an amount of
them, as they may take to those who shall give
them what they need. And so we want additional
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 65
husbandmen and artisans in our city. And then
we want other persons who are to take out and
bring in the articles of which we speak. And such
persons are called merchants. And so we must
have merchants. And if the importation of these
things take place by sea, we shall want several
other kinds of persons who are skilled in seafaring
employments.
" And now, how are the people in our city to 12
impart to one another what each produces, which
transfer was the object for which we founded our
city ?"
" It is plain," Adeimantus replies; "it must be
by buying and selling."
" Then we must have a market-place, an
agora; and we must have money, the token of
exchange of things.
" And then if the husbandman, or any other
kind of workman, bring into the market-place
what he has produced, and do not come at the same
time as those who need to purchase what he has,
he will have to sit idle in the market-place."
" By no means," said he ; " there are persons,
who seeing this inconvenience, take this office
upon themselves. In well-regulated cities, it is
the weakest in body, those who are less fit for
other labour, that do this. They stay in the
market, buy some things for money from those
that have them to offer, and sell to others for
money, things which they want to buy."
" And so this need," said I, " introduces tradesmen
into our city, For we call them, I think,
tradesmen who sit in the market having it for their
office to buy and sell.
" And then there are workmen of another kind,
who are not by their intellectual gifts worthy
to be in our community, but whose bodies have
PLAT. III.
06 THE REPUBLIC.
strength which may be employed in labour. They
sell the use of their bodily strength, and the price
they call hire, and so they are called hired labourers.
And so then hired labourers fill up the
measure of our city."—Adeimantus assents.
" And now, Adeimantus, is our city large enough
to be complete ?"
" Perhaps."
" And where then in this our city reside
Justice and Injustice? In which of these parts
that we have described are they to be found?"
" I do not see, Socrates ; except it be in the
mutual intercourse with each other which the
members of our city have."
" Perhaps," said I, " you are right in that ;
and we must consider whether it is so, and not
give up our examination. Let us then first consider
in what manner the citizens whom we have
thus provided, are to live. They must have meat
and wine, and clothes and shoes, and houses ; they
may in summer generally be naked and barefoot ;
but in winter they must be clothed and shod.
They will make themselves cakes of barley-meal
and wheaten flour, and serve them on reeds or
clean leaves, and at their meal will recline on a
litter of ivy or myrtle-leaves ; and so will enjoy
themselves, they and their children, drinking their
wine, wearing chaplets on their heads [as we do
on holidays] ; singing hymns to the Gods, not
producing too many children, for fear of poverty
and war."
Here Glaucon interposes ; apparently he is
amused with the description of the imaginary city,
and likes to add new features to it. He says :
" You make your people feast on dry bread, without
any more savoury viands."
" You say truly," said I. " I had forgot that
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 67
they must have more savoury diet ; salt, of course,
olives, cheese, onions, and other bulbs and potherbs,
such as people cook in the country. And
they shall have a dessert of figs and peas and
beans, which they will parch with ashes of
branches of myrtle and beech, taking a moderate
quantity of wine with them. And thus they will
live peaceful and happy, and die as old men,
transmitting a life of like kind to their children."
Glaucon is not satisfied with this picture of
life. He says : " If, Socrates, you had to describe
a city of pigs, you could not have spoken otherwise
of their feeding."
"But how are they to feed, 0 Glaucon?"
said I.
" As our custom is," said he. " If they are to
be at ease, they must lie on couches, and have
tables to eat at, and such viands as we now have,
and such desserts."
" Be it so," said I. " I understand. We are
not only to consider how a city may be originated,
but a luxurious city. Perhaps there is no harm in
that. Perhaps by considering that point now, we
may find about Justice and Injustice, in what part
of a city they reside. A true City seems to me to
be such as I described ; that is a city in health ; if
you wish to consider a city in a plethora, there is
nothing to prevent you. There are some persons,
it appears, who will not be satisfied with our way
and our kind of living. They must have couches
and tables and other articles of furniture, and seasoning
and spices and odours, and waiting women,
and delicacies of all kinds. And besides the necessaries
of life, of which we spoke at first, houses
and clothes and shoes, we must have decorations
and paintings, and gold, and ivory, and such matters.
Is it not so ?"
F 2
68 THE REPUBLIC.
Glaucon assents, and Socrates goes on to enumerate
new classes which his city must contain :
more it would seem, in order to fill out his picture,
than 'because his argument requires it.
" In that case we must enlarge our city. That
healthy little city will no longer suffice ; we must
have one swollen with a multitude of persons who
deal with superfluities, not with necessaries. We
must have all those who invent novelties', and
those who practise the imitative arts, painters and
musicians ; and poets, and reciters to grace their
works, and actors and dancers, and stage-managers
; and, again, makers of all kinds of female
ornaments : and attendants of all kinds ; footmen,
ladies" maids, hair-dressers, barbers ; and again
cooks and restaurateurs ; classes who were not in
our former city ; we needed them not : but now we
must have them : and we must have all kinds of
creatures to eat, must we not ?" —" Why not ?"
says Glaucon assentingly.
" Then we shall want physicians among people
who live so, much more than we did before ?" —
" Much more."
" And the territory which was large enough
before will be too small now ?"
" Even so."
" And so to get sufficient pasture land and
arable land we must encroach upon our neighbours,
and our neighbours will have to do the
same to us, if they too pass the limits of what is
necessary and give themselves up to a boundless
cupidity."
" It must needs be, Socrates."
" Then, Glaucon, eve must go to war ? or
how ?"
" Even so," said he.
°Om-at.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 69
" Well, we will not now say whether war is a
good or an evil, but only this, that we have found
the origin of War ;—war, which brings great ills
on states and on individuals, when it happens.
And now we have our city larger still ; for we
must have a large army which may go forth and
fight the enemies in defence of the city's possessions
or to obtain the objects which we have
described."
" What?" says Glaucon, " can the citizens not
do that themselves ?"
" By no means. You have agreed with the
rest of us, when we first constructed our city, that
it is impossible for one man to practise well several
arts."—" That is true," said he.
" Well then ! Do you not think that soldiering
is an art ?"—" Certainly."
" And are we to take more pains about the
shoemaker's art than about the soldier's?"—" By
no means."
" But we forbade the shoemaker to try to be a
husbandman or a builder or a weaver, that his
shoemaking might be well done ; and so to each
of the others we gave one task for which he was
fit, and which he was to attend to exclusively,
making it the business of his life, or that he
might do it well. And is it not of the highest
consequence that the soldier's work be done well ?
Or is the work so easy that a man, while he works
as husbandman or shoemaker, may be a soldier too,
though he cannot become a good player at draughts
or chess without making it his main business
from his earliest years. Or is it likely that a man
just taking up a shield or any other implement or
weapon of war, without any previous practice,
shall be able to use it as a good soldier, while the
tools and implements of other arts do not make a
70 THE REPUBLIC.
man master of the art the moment they are taken
up, and are of no use to a person who has not had
the requisite apprenticeship and practice."
" Tools would be very valuable things," said
he, " if they did this."
15 Well then, in proportion as the office of the
soldier or Guard of the state is important, it requires
more art and more attention."
" I believe so," said he.
" And requires too a disposition and character
suited to the office ?"
" Certainly."
" It must be our business then, if we can, to
select such characters as are suitable to this office
of Guards."—" It must be our business."
" Faith," said I, " it is no slight task that we
have got ; but however we must not be fainthearted,
as long as we can go on."
The establishment of a class of soldiers as a
separate element of the community is essential to
Plato's argument; and Socrates goes on to follow
into detail the characteristics of this class. He says,
" The young soldier who is to act as a guard
of the state must be like a dog of high blood.
He must be sagacious to see his foe, agile to follow
him, strong to battle with him. He must have
Courage. Now Courage implies the existence of
the Irascible Element—Anger. With this element,
an animal, horse or dog, flinches at nothing, is fearless,
invincible. And so we see that our guards
must be strong in body, and have the irascible
element in their soul.
" But how then are they to escape being savage
to one another and to the citizens ? They ought to
be gentle to the citizens and fierce to the enemies ;
if not, they will not wait for other enemies to destroy
them, they will destroy themselves. How
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 71
shall we have them both gentle and high
couraged? How is this to be? It seems difficult to
combine these qualities, and yet we cannot dispense
with either.
" Still, upon recollecting what we have said,
we may see that the combination is possible. Dogs
of good breed have it ; they are quite gentle to
those that they know, and the contrary to strangers.
And such must our guards be.
" Further, these guards must be fond of know- 16
ledge. Dogs are so ; you may see in them an
admirable instinct. They bark at those they do
not know, and fawn on those that they do know.
And so they hold that form which they know to be
a sign of friendship, and that which they do not
know to be a sign of enmity. Is not this a proof
that they are fond of knowledge, that is, fond of
wisdom, and so, in a way, philosophical?
" And so our guard of the state, to be perfect,
must be philosophical as well as irascible and swift
and strong."
This proof that these guards of the state must
be philosophical, as dogs of good breed are philosophical,
(fond of what they know and therefore
fond of knowledge,) sounds somewhat grotesque to
us. One purpose of the assertion is to introduce a
discussion of Greek education, which is so long,
and interrupts the main scheme of the discourse so
much, that I shall omit it now, and give it afterwards
as a Digression. Socrates goes on :
" Such then are our guards to be. But how
are they to be brought up and educated? That
seems to be a necessary preliminary for us with
reference to our main object, the finding about
Justice and Injustice—how they come into a city.
This we must do, that we may not omit what is to
the purpose for the sake of avoiding prolixity."
72 THE REPUBLIC.
" And Glaucon's brother said: ' Undoubtedly I
think that this inquiry is a preliminary to our
question.'
" Then, by Jupiter, my dear Adeimantus, we
must not turn away from it, even if it should be
rather long. We must describe the education of
the men, like persons who are weaving mythological
fables and are quite at leisure."—" Agreed."
" What then is to be their education? It is
difficult to find a better education than that which
was found out long ago ; Gymnastic for the body,
Music for the mind."
To the examination of these elements of Greek
education they then proceed ; but I shall pass on
to that part of the Dialogue where the image of
the state is completed and applied.
This takes us to the middle of the Third Book.
B. III. " Such then is our scheme of education. And
§ 19 now we must consider who are to be the Governors
and who the Governed in our imaginary state.
" In the first place the Elders must rule, the
Younger must obey. And of the Elders those who
are best for the office,—they are to be the Guardians
of the City ; and those must be taken who
have most of a Guardian character,—wise and
strong for this office, and careful for the City.
And a man cares most for that which he most
loves. And he loves that which he conceives to
have the same interest as himself; that of which
the well-being makes him do well, and the contrary.
Those, then, must be chosen from all other
Guardians, whom we shall have seen, during their
whole life, ready to do with energy that which
they conceive is most for the benefit of the City,
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 73
and never to do on any account what is otherwise.
And we must follow them through all their ages,
to see how they adhere to this maxim, and neither
through delusion or through force forget and abandon
this rule of doing what is best for the City."
" I do not quite understand," Glaucon says,
" what cases of abandoning the rule you mean."
Socrates then explains, according to his usual
doctrine, that men never part with what is good
willingly ; that when men part with truth they do
so without meaning to do so ; and that therefore it
must be by the influence of surprise, or delusion, or
force, that they do this. The allurement of pleasure
or the chill of fear may produce this illusion.
" We must then, as I said, seek those who 20
best keep hold of the maxim of doing that which
is best for the City ; we must try them from their
early years, putting them in positions in which
they might most easily be deceived and forget this
maxim ; we must select him who is steady in such
cases, and reject the others. We must propose
toils and pains and struggles in which this steadiness
is to be shown. As we expose young colts
to noise and tumult that we may see whether they
are timorous or bold, so we must expose our young
men to terrors and perils, and again to pleasures,
that we may try them. They must be tried like
gold in the fire, to see whether they keep their
fair aspect : we must see whether they show the
benefit of their education in music, and exhibit a
harmony and a rhythm on all occasions.
" And him who thus tried as boy, and youth,
and man, turns out blameless at every stage, is to be
made a Ruler and Guardian of the City. Honours
are to be given to him during his life, and at his
death, an honourable tomb and other marks of
respect.
74 THE REPUBLIC.
"And the persons thus selected are more truly
the Guardians of the City than those soldier-guards
of whom we spoke before. They are Guardians of
the City from enemies without and from friends
within, so that the former cannot, the latter will
not, do it harm. Those Guards of whom we spoke
before we may rather call the Helpers and Supporters
of the rules laid down by the Rulers."
All this is assented to, sentence by sentence ;
and then we come to another point, which Socrates
proposes with a hesitation quite natural, seeing
that it is a recommendation of falsehood. 1
" And now—how are we to invent those necessary
lies which may persuade the Rulers themselves,
or at any rate the rest of the City, that they
are something great ?"
" What do you mean ?"
" Nothing new : only the old Phenician fable
[of men springing out of the earth] which has been
told of many places, as the poets say and sing ;
but which has not happened in our time, and perhaps
never will happen, and so is hard to persuade
people of."
" You seem to have a great hesitation in bringing
it out."
" When you have heard it," said I, " you will
think I have reason to hesitate."
" Out with it," said he, " and fear nothing."
" Here it is then. And yet I know not with
what face, or in what words I could try to persuade
the Rulers and the Soldiers first, and then
the rest of the City, that all the education which
we gave them and which made them what they
are, is a mere dream :—that they were really formed
in the depths of the earth, they and their arms
and their implements :—that when they were fully
formed, their mother the earth sent them forth ;—
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 75
and now they must defend their land as their
mother and their nurse against all assailants, and
feel for all the other citizens as their brothers from
the same womb of earth."
" It was not for nothing that you were ashamed,
a little while ago, to utter this story."
" Quite true : but still hear the rest of the fable. 21
We shall say to them, adopting the language
which our story suggests, You are all brethren ;
and the God who made you put gold into the
composition of those who are fit to rule ; they are
the most precious. He put silver into the composition
of the supporters '• iron and brass into
that of the husbandman and artisans.
" And for the most part, your offspring is like
yourselves : yet sometimes from the gold springs a
silver offspring, and from the silver a golden one :
and the like in the other materials. And the God
recommends the Rulers first and chiefly to attend
to this :—as Guardians to take more care about the
offspring than any other thing ; and to see what
is the composition of their characters. If their own
offspring are alloyed with brass or with silver they
are not to allow pity to prevail, but are to remove
them into the position which belongs to them,
among the artisans or the husbandmen. And if
any of the offspring of these classes have by birth
a mixture of gold or of silver, they are to place the
former among the Guardians, the latter among the
Supporters ;—it is held that there is an Oracle to
the effect that the City will perish when brass or
iron is its Guardian. Now can you devise any
scheme by which they may be made to believe
this story ?"
" No," says Glaucon, " not the existing body
of men: but their sons may be made to believe it,
and the succeeding generations."
76 THE REPUBLIC.
" Then may the invention prosper, and make
them good patriots, and may the oracle hold good
and fame attend it! And now let us arm these
sons of the earth, and lead them forth under the
conduct of their Rulers."
That is, let us now consider the class of
soldiers, and their condition.
" Let them come forward and see in what part
of the city they can best encamp, so that they may
have most power to control those within the city,
if any one will not obey the laws, and to repel the
external enemy, if any approaches like a wolf to
the sheepfold. And when they have established
their camp, let them make the due sacrifices, and
then set up their tents.
" And then their tents must be such as to
shelter their property in winter and in summer ;
is it not so ?"
" Certainly : you mean their dwellings."
" Yes, but the dwellings of soldiers, not of
merchants."
" What difference between the one and the
other do you refer to ?"
22 " I will try to tell you. It is a most shocking and
disgraceful thing when shepherds keep, to defend
their sheep, such dogs that the dogs themselves,
through hunger or want of discipline, attack the
sheep, and are like wolves rather than dogs. And
so we must take especial care that our Supporters
and Defenders do not take such courses towards
the citizens, seeing that they are stronger than
those—that instead of kind supporters they be not
like savage masters. This must be one great object
in our teaching of them."—" They have been
taught in this way," said Glaucon.
" I would not be too sure of this," said I.
" But I am sure that they ought to be taught,
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 77
so as to be kind to one another and to those who
are under their guard. But besides this, a wise
man would say that they ought to be provided
with such dwellings, and placed in such circumstances,
as not to interfere with their office of being
good guards, and not to impel them to hurt the
other citizens. And therefore, for this end, they
must be placed in these circumstances :—In the
first place no one of them must have any private
property, except in cases where it is absolutely
necessary. Then they must have no dwellings or
store-rooms into which every person who chooses
may not enter. They must have such food as is
necessary for sober and brave soldiers ; and they
must have, for their services in defending the City,
as much as they need to live on from year to year,
and no more. They must eat at a common table,
and live like men in a camp. As for gold and
silver, they must be told that the divine gold and
silver which the gods have put in their minds
makes earthly gold and silver useless to them ;—
that it would be wicked to alloy the possession
of that divine gold with the possession of earthly
gold : the gold which circulates among men has
been the source of many crimes, but theirs is
pure gold. They alone of all the citizens are
forbidden to handle or to touch gold or silver or
to be under the same roof with it, to wear it on
their dresses, to drink out of it : and so they will
save themselves and save the city. If they want
to have land of their own and houses and money,
they will turn husbandman and housekeepers instead
of soldiers, and masters and enemies of the
City instead of defenders ; they will spend their
lives hating and hated, plotting and plotted against;
fearing the citizens within more than the enemy
without ; and bringing themselves and the City to
78 THE REPUBLIC.
the verge of destruction. So make account," said
I; "that we agree that we are to make such arrangements
as have been mentioned with regard to
the dwelling of the Defenders of the State and
the other matters; and let this be our law."
" By all means," said Glaucon.
These arrangements for the soldier-class in
Plato's Polity naturally excited much remark.
Aristotle criticizes them in his Polity. It is indeed
easy to show their strange consequences; but
we may say that they are necessary for Plato's
purpose. As each class in his Polity represents
one of the springs of action in man, there would
arise confusion if the class itself were impelled
by several springs of action, such as the Love of
Property, of House, and of Family.
The objection to this constitution of the state
is put forward by Plato himself, in the next Book.
B. iv. " Here Adeimantus taking me up said : What
§ 1 will you say for yourself, Socrates, if any one
makes the objection, that you make your soldierclass
far from happy, and that through their own
fault, since the city is really at their disposal; for
they enjoy none of the advantages which the city
supplies, like the other classes, who possess lands, I
and build fine houses, and fill them with suitable
furniture, and make thire own private sacrifices to
the gods, and receive their own guests, and have
treasures of gold and silver, and everything which
is supposed to make men happy : but are simply
hired guards, and hold their place in the city
merely as a garrison?'
" Yes," said I, "and he may add, that they do
not, like other hired troops, get pay as well as
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 79
food ; so that they cannot travel on their own account,
or give anything to their favourites, nor
indulge in any of the expences which are supposed
to make life pleasant. You omit these and many
other obvious grounds of objection."
" Well," said he, " suppose that those too are
urged."
" And what shall we answer, you ask ?"
" Even so."
" If we go on in the same course which we have
been following, we shall find what we must say to
this. We shall say, that even if our soldier-class
were ever so happy, we did not construct our city
with a view to the object of making one class especially
happy, but of making the whole city happy
in the highest degree : for we thought that in a
city so constructed, we should most surely find justice,
as in a city most ill-constructed we should most
surely find injustice; and thus we thought we could
solve the problem, which we have all along been
employed about. We have therefore to construct
a happy city, not in a fragmentary way, making a
small class in the city happy, but the whole body.
It is as if we made a statue and painted it, and
some one were to object that we do not apply the
most beautiful colours to the most beautiful places :
—for that the eyes are the most beautiful part,
and that we do not paint them purple, or crimson,
but black. We should think it was answer enough
to say : My ingenious Sir, you are not to suppose
that we are to make the eyes beautiful in such a
way that they cease to be eyes : and so of the
other parts : but look and see whether by making
each part of the proper colour, we make the whole
beautiful. And so in this case, do not drive us
to give to our guards such a kind of happiness as
will make them rather anything than guards. We
80 THE REPUBLIC.
might, if we chose, make our husbandmen put on
long robes and golden ornaments, and work the
ground only as a matter of amusement : we might
make the potters lie by the fire drinking and feasting,
with the potter's wheel by their side, for them
to use when they choose ; and might make the other
classes luxuriate in like manner, by way of making
the whole city happy. But do not ask us to do
this : for if we comply with such a request, the
husbandman will no longer be a husbandman, the
potter no longer a potter ; and none will have the
character of those classes of which a city is constituted.
But this incongruity in the other classes
is of smaller consequence. If the cobbler is a bad
cobbler, or pretends to be one when he is not, but
is merely a spoiler of leather, no great harm is done
to the city. But if those who pretend to be the
guards of the city and its laws are not really so,
they utterly ruin the city. They alone can make
it prosperous and happy. We in our scheme
make the guards really of use to the city ; the objector
would make them' men enjoying a festival,
not citizens of a complete city, and would be describing
something different from a city. We
must consider whether we will make our guards
with this object, that they shall be as happy as 11
may be, or with the object of making the city
happy ; and so, have to compel the guards, its
defenders, to do and to think what may best fit
them for their special work : and so the city being
prosperous and well governed, must teach each
class to have such happiness as its nature allows
it to have."
2 " Well," said he, " you seem to me to speak
reasonably."
I omit •yecoryas rums Ka(.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 81
" And," said I, " does another maxim, the fellow
of that one, seem to you reasonable ?"
" What is it?" said he.
" There are two things which spoil artisans,
and make them bad ones : Wealth and Poverty."
" How ?"
" If the potter become rich he will not go on
working at his trade ?"—" No."
" He will become day by day more idle and
more negligent, and so be a bad potter ?"—
" Yes."
" On the other hand, Poverty may prevent his
having tools and materials, and teaching his sons
or his apprentices to be good potters."—" True."
" And so the guardians of the city must take
care of this too • they must avoid both these evils
and dangers—Wealth and Poverty :—the former
introduces luxury, idleness, and a love of change :-
the latter, along with the love of change, brings
servility and meanness."
" Undoubtedly : but then, Socrates, consider
how our city can carry on war, having no
money."
And thus Socrates and his friends go on constructing
their ideal city, and working out all its
relations, although unnecessary for the main purpose
for which it was introduced, the determination
of the nature and definition of Justice. Socrates
holds that this city would be well able to defend
itself : even against more than one hostile city :
just as a practised boxer might defeat more than
one adversary who was fat and pursy, by retiring
before them, and as they followed at unequal
speed, thrashing each as he came up with him.
" The rich are not the best soldiers, any more than
they are the best boxers, and so one city without
riches might beat three or four rich cities. More-
PLAT. III.
82 THE REPUBLIC.
over, we might send to another city and tell them
that we have no silver and gold : it is against
our law to have it : so if you fight on our side,
you will get the spoils of the enemy. Do you
think that after such a statement any of them
would prefer fighting against hardy and hungry
dogs, to fighting on the side of the dogs against
fat and tender sheep ?" Adeimantus remarks that
if in this way one city were to get the riches of
its neighbour, it would be dangerous to the poorer
city. But Socrates maintains that no city would
truly deserve to be called a city, except such a one
as he is constructing. " The others all are collections
of at least two cities, enemies to one another,
the City of the Rich and the City of the Poor :
and these have many subdivisions. If you attack
the city so composed as one city, you will not succeed
; but if you attack it as being several cities,
and give to one class what belongs to another—
wealth, power, everything—you will have many
friends and few enemies ; and so long as our city
is thus properly governed, it will be truly great ;-
great even if it have only ten thousand soldiers :
for you will not easily find a city larger than this,
either among the Greeks or the Barbarians, though
there are several which are said to be many times
this magnitude."
3 Socrates then observes that the consideration
just mentioned may serve to determine what ought
to be the size of their perfect city. It must be
neither too large nor too small, but of such a size
that it may be one city.
Again, he remarks that the citizens must be
put in the offices which are best adapted to the
disposition and endowments of each person, so
that each may act as one, and not as many ; and
so the unity of the city may be maintained.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 83
But he observes further, that all these minor
matters will turn out right if the education of the
citizens be well ordered. If that be good, it will
produce good citizens ; and again, good citizens
will maintain a good education ; and so in a circle,
and the race will prosper and go on improving as
in the careful breeding of animals.
He then proceeds to urge this in detail. " The
guardians of the state must," he says, " pay special
attention to this, and take care that no decay or
deterioration creeps in here. They must in particular
resist all innovation in the great elements of
education, Gymnastic and Music. Homer says
(speaking of the bard who sang the Adventures of
Ulysses to the Suitors, Odyssee, I. 443),
`The song
Wins ever from the hearers most applause
That has been least in use.'
But care is to be taken that men do not understand
this as describing, not a new poem, but a new
style of music, and recommending that. We must
have no innovations in music : they put everything
to peril. The modes of music cannot be changed
without stirring the fundamental laws of the state,
as Damon says, and I agree with him." To this
Adeimantus assents. " Yes," continues Socrates, 4
" the citadel of good polity is Music : that citadel
the guardians must safely keep." " And yet," says
Adeimantus, " a disregard of established laws may
easily creep unobserved into this region." " Yes,
says Socrates, " coming in the shape of a mere
amusement, with no manifest bad consequences."
" Yes," says the other, " the consequences are imperceptibly
small at first ; and yet the evil, once
established, taints men's manners, disturbs their
employments, and then goes on to affect their social
G 2
111
84 THE REPUBLIC.
relations; and from these, disturbs the laws and the
polity of the state, by the license which it generates,
so that at last it subverts everything, public
and private."
" Even so," said I. " We must then, as I said
at first, from the earliest years of our young people,
attend to their games and amusements, and
take care that these inspire a love of the laws ; for
without this, they cannot grow up to be good men.
But when boys, properly trained, imbibe a love of
law by their teaching in Music, they grow better
and better, and if anything has gone wrong, it is
set right. The smaller matters of propriety
which their predecessors had neglected they correct."
I have translated this part of the Dialogue as
a curious evidence of the importance which the
Athenians ascribed to Music as an element of ed
ucation, and of the weighty efects which they conceived
that it might produce in states. Socrates
goes on to enumerate some of the points of pro- 1
priety which he conceives would be duly attended
to by persons in this way well educated : " Such
as these ; for young people to keep a becoming
silence before the old, to give them the place of
honour, to rise when they come into the room, to
pay visible respect to parents ; to have their hair
cut in a proper way, and their clothes and their
shoes decent, and the whole of their dress and demeanour
decorous. There is no use in making laws
about such matters. Whether written or oral,
they would not be observed.
" Nor will we make laws 'about contracts of
buying and selling, about the wages of labour,
about assault and battery, and the process of law,
and the constitution of law-courts, and the imposition
of taxes and customs, in the market or in
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 85
the harbour ; all that concerns the market-place,
the city or the harbour."
" True," said he. " There is no use in making
laws on such subjects for honourable men. They
will attend to such things themselves. If they
set about regulating such matters by law, they
will have to make new laws continually, without
ever satisfying themselves: just as persons
whose health is damaged by intemperance, try all
kinds of medicines to cure their disorders, rather
than renounce the intemperate habits which produced
and keep up the disorder."
On occasion of this mention of useless laws, 5
Socrates introduces a censure of those cities which
forbid the citizens to disturb the constitution of
the state, on penalty of death : and which hold as
good and wise those men who gratify the desires
of the city. He and Adeimantus agree also that
those who give their services to such a Public,
and allow themselves to believe that they are
statesmen because they obtain its applause, are
not at all to be admired. When a man does not
know how to measure, he may be made to believe
that he is six feet high though he is not ; but not
if he does know the art of measuring. " Do not
then," says Socrates, "be angry with men like
these who make new laws about contracts and the
like, hoping at last to cure all defects in such laws.
They are really cutting off the heads of a Hydra.
The true legislator does not trouble himself about
such laws : in an ill-regulated city they are useless
and inoperative ; in a well-regulated city they
flow naturally from the fundamental arrangements
of the state."
Here we have the usual censure of the political
state of Athens, and perhaps of some special attempts
at legislation, combined with a defence of
86 THE REPUBLIC.
his own polity. He then goes on to another point,
in order to complete the constitution of his imaginary
state. Adeimantus says :
" And now what remains for us to legislate
about ?"
" For us," said I, " nothing ; but we leave to
the Delphic Apollo the highest and greatest point
of legislation."—" What is that ?" said he.
" Laws concerning the structure of temples
and sacrifices, and forms of worship of Gods and
Heroes : the burial of the dead ; the propitiation
of the Departed. We, only aspiring to found a
city, do not presume to regulate such matters,
or to impose our opinions on others : we must
only have recourse to the recognized authority on
such points. The God whose scat is the middle
point of the earth, (Delphi) its very navel, is the
natural director of such matters for us Greeks."
And thus the construction and constitution of
the Platonic City is completed, and the interlocutors
have now to draw from it the conclusions for
which it was introduced. The points in the con-
. stitution which are essential to the argument are
somewhat obscured by the details into which the
polity is pursued, as we have seen. The main
features to be borne in mind in pursuing the argument
are these : that in the Imaginary City
there are three main classes :—the Guardians or
Governors ; the Guards or Soldiers ; and the
Workmen as Producers of articles of desire. And
this being the framework of the State, the question
arises, for the sake of solving which the city was
imagined, " Where is Justice ?" Socrates puts
this question in his lively way.
6 " And so, son of Ariston, here is our city
founded. And now take a light in your hand,
and incite your brother and Polemarchus and the
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 87
others to do the same, and look round and search
in what part of it resides Justice, in what part
Injustice : how the two differ from each other, and
which of them he must possess who is to be happy,
even if his actions be concealed from Gods and
from men."
" No, no," says Glaucon: " it was you that
were to make this search. You said that it would
be wicked in you not to stand forward in defence
of justice, in every way, to the utmost of your
power."
" Well," said I, " you remind me truly, and
this I must do. But you must help me."
" Yes," said he ; " we will do so."
"I hope," said I, " that I shall find what we
seek in this way. Our city, if it be rightly
founded, must be perfectly good."
" Necessarily," said he.
" It must, then, evidently be wise, brave, temperate
and just."
"Plainly."
" If then we find some of these things, the
remainder must be what we have not found."
" How so ?"
" Just as if in any other case, we had four
things, and sought for them in any quarter, if we
found what we sought, and knew it, all would be
well ; but if we found the other three first, and
knew them, we should that way too find what we
sought; for it must be in that part which remained
behind."—" You speak truly," said he.
" We must then, since we have these four
things, seek for them in the same way?"—" Evidently."
Here first appears the celebrated Platonic quaternion—
the four Cardinal Virtues, as they were
afterwards called—Wisdom, Courage, Temperance,
88 THE REPUBLIC.
and Justice. The selection of these four virtues—
no more, no fewer, and no other—is somewhat
arbitrary : yet this analysis of virtue is really the
fundamental principle of the Platonic Ethics ; and
indeed the attempt is made in what follows to
justify this analysis of virtue by an analysis of
human nature. I give Socrates's discussion, omitting
the interlocutions.
" The first thing that we discern in this case
is the virtue of Wisdom. Wise the city must
be ; for it is governed by good counsel, and good
counsel is exact knowledge. But there are various
kinds of exact knowledge in our city. Which of
these entitles us to call the city wise? Is it the
knowledge of smiths? No. Of workers in brass ?
No. Of tillers of the ground ? No. Each of
these arts would make it a city skilled in ironworks
or brass-works or agriculture, but not a wise
city. But is there not in our city, constructed
as we have supposed, some kind of knowledge
which applies not to some part or class of the
city, but to the whole city? There is : there is
the knowledge which the Guardians, the Rulers
of the city, have. On the ground of the existence
of this knowledge in the city, we call the city
prudent and wise. But are these Guardians and
Rulers as numerous as the smiths and the like?
By no means, they are the smallest class. And
thus the smallest class in our city, the Ruling
Class, by its wisdom makes the whole city wise :
it alone professes that kind of knowledge which we
call Wisdom.
7 "And so we have found. one of the four things a which we sought ;—found what it is and in what
part of the city it resides.
" And next as to Courage : what it is ; in what
part of our city it resides, so that the city may be
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 89
called courageous, is not now very difficult to see.
What must any one look at, to decide whether he
is to call the city brave or cowardly ? To what
but to that part of it which does its fighting work
for it? The other classes do not, by being brave
or cowardly, make the City to be such. And so
the City is courageous in virtue of a certain portion
of it : a portion which holds fast that opinion as to
what is danger and what is not, which the legislator
inculcated in the course of education which
he prescribed. For is not this what we must mean
by Courage—a steady retention of the doctrine as
to what things are dangerous and what are not,
which was imparted by the established education :
—a steady retention of this doctrine, undisturbed
through pains and pleasures and desires and fears?
I will tell you what I compare this disposition to.
The Dyers, when they want to dye wool a fast
colour that will not wash out, first select the
whitest wool, and then prepare it by various
processes, that it may take the dye strongly and
permanently ; and then they dye it. What is so
dyed holds the colour for ever, so that it cannot
be washed out by water or by soap : but in what
is dyed without this selection and preparation, the
colours are faint and fleeting. Now such an
effect you are to understand that we aim at, when
we select our soldiers and educate them for their
position : we dye them in the laws, that their
view of what is dangerous and what is not may
be stedfastly fixed, not to be washed out by
pleasure and pain, fear and desire, powerful abstergents
though they be : and this fixed feeling I call
Courage.
And so, for the present we have said enough
of that. There still remain two things which
we have to examine — Temperance, and that
90 THE REPUBLIC.
for which the whole inquiry was undertaken—
Justice. Now how can we discover Justice, that
we may have no more to trouble ourselves about
Temperance ?"
The friend replies, with the general Athenian
love of such discussion :
" I neither know, nor do I wish that Justice
should come into clear view, till we have examined
about Temperance. If you would oblige
me, consider that first."
" Agreed. Well Temperance seems to resemble
a kind of harmony and concord of parts,
more than the virtues which we have previously
considered. Temperance is, they say, a power of
controlling desires and pleasures. They talk, in
a rather strange way, of a man being master of
himself: and there are other indications of its
nature [in common language]. But this expression,
master of himself appears absurd ; for he who is
master of himself must be his own slave, and the
slave must be the master : for the man is the same
man who is spoken of in both cases. But the
expression seems to imply that there is in man a
better and a worse element: and when that which
is better by nature governs the worse, the man is
said to be master of himself. This is an expression
of praise. But when vicious pleasures or vicious
company prevails and overmasters the better but
weaker element, they use expressions of blame,
and call such a man the slave of himself, an illgoverned
man.
" Now look at our City, and you will find a
resemblance there. If the better part rule the
worse, you may call it temperate. You will find
desires, and pleasures and pains, numerous and
varied, existing in the most numerous and debased
classes, including the women and the servants.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 91
While you will find simple and moderate desires,
conducted with intelligence and right opinion, in
the few best disposed and best taught. And these 9
classes existing in the City, if the desires of the
many and worse sort are governed by the desires
and the intelligence of the few and better, you
may say that the City is master of itself—that
it is temperate. And in our City, there is an
agreement between the Governors and the Go-.
verned as to who shall rule.
" Now this being so, in which class does the
temperance reside—in the Governors or in the
Governed ? In both. And so you see we guessed
right when we said that Temperance was like a
concord and agreement. It is not like Courage or
Wisdom, each of which exists in a particular
class, and so makes the City courageous and wise.
It is diffused through the whole, and brings into
harmony all, the weakest, the strongest, and the
intermediate ones ; a harmony in intelligence, in
strength, in numbers, in wealth, and in all things.
And thus Temperance is a Harmony of that
which is better and worse by nature, a Unanimity
as to which is to rule in general and in all par-.
ticulars.
" Now we have, we may suppose, explained
three of the things we spoke of in our city : and
what is the fourth virtue which we must have
there? It is, as we have said, Justice. So now,
my dear Glaucon, like hunters, we must beat
the cover all round, and take care that Justice
does not slip out and run away from us. For
somewhere there it must be. So try if you can
catch a sight of it before I do, and tell me. "
" I wish I could," said he. " But it will be
much for me if you can make me follow you and
see it when you point it out."
92 THE REPUBLIC.
" Follow," said I, " praying for success."
" I follow," said he ; " only do you lead the
way."
" Yes," said I" but the cover is hard to walk
into and to see thorugh. It is very dark and
blind work. However let us go on."
" Yes : let us go on," said he.
And I, looking in, said, " See ho ! see ho !
Glaucon. Here we have the track of our game.
I do not think it will escape us."
" You tell me good news," said he.
" But really we were very stupid. Here, my
dear friend, the thing has been trundling before
our feet all the while ; and we, very curiously,
did not see it, like persons who seek for a thing
while they have it in their hands. Like them
we never looked at this ; but looked beyond it, and
so missed it. We have spoken of it and heard
of it, and did not know that we were talking
about it."
Glaucon says, very naturally as the reader
may think, that Socrates is somewhat long in this
preface to his explanation.
" Well," said I, " listen, and tell me if I say
anything to the purpose."
10 " What we established, as a thing to be universally
done, when we founded our City, that,
or something like that, is, it seems to me, Justice.
We laid it down as a principle, and often
said, if you recollect, that each person in the State
must do some one thing for which he was especially
fitted. Now to do one's own business, and
not to meddle with what does not concern us, is
Justice : this we have often heard other people
say, and have said ourselves. Now this, I think,
will turn out to be Justice,—each man doing his
own business.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 93
" I will tell you why I think so. Temperance,
Courage, and Wisdom being established in our
City, what remains to establish appears to be that
which gives to each of those Virtues the possibility
of being there, and preserves them as long
as it is there. Now these other three Virtues
being discovered, we agreed that Justice was that
which remained to be discovered.
" Now if we had to decide what by its presence
most makes the City good, we might doubt
whether it is the unanimity of Governors and
Governed [which as we have seen, is Temperance ;]
or the steady holding by the soldiers of a right
opinion as to danger [which is Courage or
Prudence and Conservatism in the Rulers [which
is Wisdom d or whether it is not rather this : that
every one, child and woman, slave and freeman,
workman, Governor and Geornved, each does
his own work, and does not meddle with the work
of others. And so this virtue of each person
doing his own work stands upon a level with
Wisdom and Temperance and Courage. And this
Virtue is Justice, which is thus a virtue to be
ranked with the other three.
" And again, look at the matter this way, and
see if we do not come to the same result. In our
City you will make it the business of the magistrates
to judge contested causes. And in their
judgments is there any point which they will
more attend to than this :—that each person should
not have what belongs to another, and should not
be deprived of what is his own ?" " Certainly not."
—" That being a just judgment." " Yes." " This
then again proves that to have and to do what
belongs to one's self is reckoned Justice."
"Again. Consider this. If the smith attempts
to do the work of the shoemaker, or if they take
94 THE REPUBLIC.
each other's tools or pay, or if one man tries to
practise both trades, does this appear to you to
inflict a great mischief on the City ?" " Not very
great."
" But if any one who is naturally a workman
or tradesman, is so infatuated by wealth or
strength or popularity that he tries to enter into
the Class of Warriors : or if one of the soldiers,
in spite of unfitness, tries to enter the Class of
Counsellors and Guardians, and takes to himself
their weapons and their rewards : or if one
and the same man tries to perform all these employments
; then I suppose you will think that
this exchange of offices and meddling with several
is the greatest possible mischief to the City. The
mixing the three different employments is in the 1
highest degree pernicious, and may be called
wrong in the most emphatic sense • and Wrong,
11 the opposite of right, is Injustice. And so we see
what Injustice is. And to confine ourselves to
our proper function, be it workman, warrior, or
guardian of the state, is Justice, and is what
makes the State to be just."
The account of the four Virtues, which is
thus reasoned out at length, may be expressed I
more clearly perhaps by being stated more briefly.
The three essential classes in a State are Workmen
to supply its wants, Soldiers to defend it, and
Magistrates to govern it. If the Magistrates are
wise, the State is wise : if the Soldiers are brave,
the State is brave : if the Workmen are in due
subordination to the magistrates, the State is
temperate : if each class keeps to its place and
office, the State is just.
The symmetry of this system is not quite
perfect. The subordination of those workmen
who supply men's bodily needs to the Rulers
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 95
who govern the State, may be taken as an exemplification
of temperance. But Justice has
not exactly its common meaning given it, when
it is defined to mean, Each man in his own
place. It may be said however, in explanation
of this want of symmetry, that the Greek word
Dikaiosyne is of larger extent than our Justice,
and means merely Rightness, as I have in some
places rendered it.
But the main interest of this scheme of four
Virtues resides in its application to the individual
man, to which Socrates now proceeds.
" Let us not be too confident," said I. " If
when we apply this to individual men, the same
description is found to suit Justice, we must suppose
that it is right : if not, we must try another
course. But for the present let us finish the
course of inquiry which we begun. We thought
that if we first examined what is Justice in some
greater example, we should more easily see what
it is in an individual man. And we thought that
a greater example was the city, and so we constructed
a city as good as possible, well knowing
that in a city which is good, Justice must reside.
Let us then now transfer this to a man : and if we
find an agreement there, it is well : but if there is
any discrepancy, we must turn back and examine
the city again. And so comparing the man and
the state, and rubbing them together, as it were,
like lighting-matches, we may make Justice shine
out, and then we shall see it clearly." " This,"
says his friend, " seems a hopeful course."
" Now when we talk of things being greater
and smaller, they must be alike in having that
quality which we speak of as greater or smaller.
And so a just man and a just city do not differ
in the quality of justice. It is the same quality
96 THE REPUBLIC.
in both. Now a city was found to be just because
there were in it three classes of disposition, each
of which did its own business. It was wise and
brave and temperate, in consequence of certain
affections and habits of these classes. And so, if
we find that man has in his soul the same three
kinds of dispositions, we shall call them by the
same names in the man, as in the city." " We
must," said he. " And so, my good friend, we
have stumbled into a tiresome inquiry concerning
the soul, whether there are in it these three dispositions
or not." " I do not think it will be very
tiresome, Socrates : perhaps the proverb is true,
that what is excellent is hard." " True," said I.
" But I must tell you, Glaucon, that in my opinion,
we shall never make this rightly out by the
methods of discussion which are now in use. We
must have a longer and larger road to lead us to
our end. But perhaps it will answer our purpose
to follow the same course which we have followed
hitherto." " Shall we not then," said he, " content
ourselves with that? I shall be satisfied with
it for the present." "And," said I, "I shall be
satisfied too." " Well then," said he, " do not
shrink from the discussion, but set about it."
This preface prepares us for a detailed analysis
of the human soul into certain leading elements.
The inquiry is ingenious and curious,
and has an important place in the history of ethical
philosophy.
" But,' said I, " we must needs acknowledge
that each individual has in him the same dispositions
and principles of action which the city has
in it : for whence else could the city get them ? It
would be absurd to suppose that the irascible element
in cities does not come from individuals.
We see that it does thus arise, as in the nations
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 97
of Thrace and Scythia, and generally all that
northern region. We see the knowledge-loving
element, which we may especially ascribe to our
own country. We see the money-loving element,
which one may say is found mainly among the
Phoenicians and Egyptians. This is plain and
clear.
" But this is not so clear : whether we do 12
these three things with the same part of us, or
whether there are three parts of us and we do
one thing with each ; that is, acquire knowledge
with one part, feel anger with another part, and
with a third desire food and other enjoyments ; or
whether we do each of these things with the whole
of our soul, according to the direction which it
takes. This is hard to determine.
" Let us try in this way to discover whether
the parts are the same or different. It is plain
that the same thing cannot do or suffer contrary
things in the same sense with reference to the
same object. If therefore we find the parts thus
doing contrary things, we shall know that they
are not the same, but several. Attend to an example.
The same thing cannot at the same time
be at rest and be in motion in the same sense.
But let us exemplify this more precisely, that no
doubt may remain. If any one say that a man
may stand still, and yet move his hands and his
head, and so is at rest and in motion at the same
time, we should reply, I conceive, that this is not
rightly expressed, but that a part of him is at rest
and a part is in motion. And if our opponent
should be still more ingenious, and should allege
that a top is at the same time at rest and in motion,
when it stands steadily on its point and
spins, or any other thing when it revolves upon
itself in like manner, we should not allow that
PLAT. HI.
9 8 THE REPUBLIC.
they are at rest and in motion as to the same parts
of them. We should say that they have an axis
and a circumference ; that their axis is at rest,—it
does not move in any direction ; and their circumference
is in motion in a circle : but when the top
moves to the right or the left or backwards or forwards
at the same time that it spins, then it is not
at rest as to any part of it. And so an opponent
making these objections will not disturb us, or
make us think that the same thing can in the
same sense and with regard to the same object,
suffer or be or do contrary things. And so let us
proceed confidently upon this principle."
The laborious and careful preparation for the
demonstration of Plato's analysis of the soul shows
that the analysis was new ; and the proofs have a
considerable share of ingenuity. He now proceeds
to them.
" To assent is the contrary of to dissent ; to
seek is the contrary of to reject ; to attract is the
contrary of to repel. Now thirst and hunger and
the desires in general, and willing and purposing,
are all things to which this rule may be applied.
The soul of a man who desires, seeks that which
it desires ; attracts that which it wishes to have ;
when it wishes any object to be given to it, beckons
to it, as it were, and shows its wish for it. And
not to wish for, not to will, not to desire a thing,
is an act of a contrary kind, namely, to refuse, to
repel, to dissent.
" Now we have desires, and among the most
obvious of them, hunger and thirst; the one the
desire of meat, the other the desire of drink. And
thirst, as thirst, is simply a desire of drink, and
nothing more. There may be a desire of warm
drink or of cold, of much drink or of little : but
this is not thirst simply. If heat is added to thirst
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 99
it produces a desire of cold drink, if cold be added,
it produces a desire of warm drink ; but thirst
itself is simply a desire of drink."
This, put interrogatively, is assented to.
" And again, it will not disturb us if any one
says that men do not desire drink simply, but desire
good drink ; not meat only, but good meat.
For we always desire what is good ; and so the
good is implied in the desire."
And by further reasoning of the same kind, it 14
is established that he who thirsts simply, desires to
drink, and nothing else.
" If then, when the soul is affected by thirst,
something holds it back, this must be something
different from the principle of thirst which, like a
wild beast, urges it on to drink : for, as we have
said, the same principle cannot produce two opposite
tendencies in the same thing. Thus you cannot
say of a bowman that his hand at the same
time pushes forwards and pulls back his bow : but
that one hand pushes it and one pulls it.
" Now does it ever happen that men who are
thirsty abstain from drinking?"
" Yes, many men, and very often."
" Then there must be in their souls a principle
which impels them to drink, and a principle which
restrains them from drinking, more powerful than
the impelling principle?"—" So it appears."
" And this restraining principle, when it operates,
comes by reasoning ; that which impels and
urges them arises from affections and lusts.
" We shall then not be wrong if we say that
there are two different principles : the one that by
which the man reasons, which we may call the
rational part of the soul ; and the other, by which
he hungers and thirsts, and feels other desires,
which we may call the concupitive part. And
H 2
100 THE REPUBLIC.
thus we have two parts of the soul distinguished.
" But now as to anger, and the part of the soul
with which we are angry,—is it a third part, or
is it of the same nature as one of those two ?"
" Perhaps," says the friend, "it is of the same
nature as the concupitive."
This point is now to be examined : and first a
story is told to show that desire may be on one
side and anger on the other.
" I have heard a story which I believe. Here
it is. Leontius the son of Aglaon was one day
coming up to town from the Piraeus along the
northern wall ; and perceiving that there were
many dead bodies there, in the place of public
execution, had a lust to look at them, and at the
same time he was vexed at himself and turned his
head away. For a time he resisted and kept his
cloak over his head, but at last he was mastered
by his desire and pulled his eyes open with his
fingers, and ran to where the corpses were, and then
he said, Ye accursed eyes, satiate yourselves with
the pleasant sight !"
" I too," said he, " have heard the story."
" But the story," said I, " shows that sometimes
our anger is at war with our desires, as
being something different from itself."
" It does show that," said he.
15 " And," said I, " do we not on many other
occasions, often see that when a man is mastered
by his desires, against his reason, he is angry with
the part of him which is thus mastered, and reproaches
himself: just as if there were two oppo- ,
site parties [desire and reason], and anger took its
part as an ally of reason? But that anger should
take part with the desires when reason had decided
that the thing was not to be done, I think you
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 101
will allow never happened in your own case, nor
have you known it in any other person's."—" Truly,
no," said he.
"And is it not true," said I, " that when any
one thinks himself to be in the wrong, in proportion
as he has a more generous nature, so
much the less can he feel anger ; though he suffers
pain, as hunger and cold, at the hands of him
whom he thinks to be in the right? His anger, as
I may say, will not be roused in such a case."-
" True," said he.
"And on the other hand, if any one supposes
that he is wronged, does not anger blaze up and
become fierce, and take the side of what seems
justice, and carry the man through hardships,
hunger or cold, or whatever they may be, and
conquer at last ; and never desist till it obtains
its end, or is destroyed • or else is called off by the
reason, like a shepherd's dog called off by the
shepherd ?"
" It is," said he, "just as you say : and it falls
in with what we arranged in our City, when we
described the guards as dogs, who were to be obedient
to the Rulers, the shepherds of the state."
" You apprehend well," said I, " what I mean.
But consider a further consequence of what I am
saying."—" What?"—" That anger is something
very different from what we said a little while ago.
We then thought it was of the nature of desire.
But now we see that it is something very different
; and that in the conflict of the soul it rather
takes the side of the reason."—" Even so."
" Is it then different from the reason, or is it
a form of the rational principle, so that there are
not three but only two parts in the soul, the rational
and the concupitive ? or rather, as in the
City we had three classes, the Producers, the
102 THE REPUBLIC.
Guards, and the Councillors, so in the Soul, is the
irascible a third element, naturally the ally of
the rational element, if it be not spoilt by bad
training?"—" It must needs," said he, " be a third
element."
" Yes," said I, " if it turn out to be different
from the rational, as it has appeared that it is
different from the concupitive."
" It is," said he, " not difficult to see that it.
is different ; for instance, one may see in boys
that they have abundance of the irascible element
from their very birth, but as to reason, some of
them seem never to acquire it, and all acquire it
late."
" You say well," said I. " And so also in
brute animals you may see that it is so. And
further, that line of Homer which we quoted before,
shows the same thing :
`He smote his breast, rebuked his swelling heart.'
For there Homer makes one part rebuke another :
the Reason, comparing the better and the worse,
rebukes the irrationally angry mood."
" Enough," said he, " you have made it
clear."
16 " And so," said I, " we have at last and with
some trouble, settled this point ; and shown that
the elements which existed in our City exist in
the soul of each individual ; the same in kind and 4
in number."
That the Reason, the Desires, and Anger
are distinct kinds of Elements in the human soul,
or, as we may perhaps more simply say, distinct
Springs of Action in man, is an important step in
ethical and psychological philosophy. In the prolix,
laborious and formal manner in which Plato
establishes this truth, we may see evidence that
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 103
it was, at least as a clear and distinct doctrine
solidly proved, new at his time. Indeed the
novelty of the doctrine appears from the phraseology
which he uses. Reason, Desire and Anger,
are to us terms familiar yet definite, which at
once imply this doctrine and almost supersede the
need of proof. But Plato does not assume these
abstract terms as points for which and by which
he may reason. He speaks not at first of the
Reason, but of that (principle) by which we learn :
not of Anger, but of that by which we are
angry.
The distinction being once propounded and
proved, has been accepted ever since • and was in
succeeding times expressed by a technical phraseology.
Anger was called the irascible part of
man ; and sometimes Desire was called the concupiscible
part. But it is better to call it concupitive
; for cupio or concupisco is not a deponent
verb as irascor is; concupiscible would by analogy
mean desirable*, not, actuated by desire.
That what I have translated anger means
anger in the simplest sense of the word, the whole
of the argument shows. Nevertheless some modern
English translators appear to have had a repugnance
to this rendering. I suppose that they were
disturbed at having to take Anger as an element
of Virtue. Accordingly they have called this
element " the spirited element ;"—a most loose and
vague expression, and a piece of very doubtful
English. Such an expression is quite unfit to
take its place in Plato's sharp and demonstrative
analysis. And that Anger, in its plainest sense,
has an office on the side of Virtue, they might
have learnt was not a strange opinion or a mere
fancy of Plato's. In very recent times we have
* It is so used by S. Jerome.
104 THE REPUBLIC.
had the same doctrine forcibly expounded by a
celebrated moralist of our own, Butler. But
Anger operating on the right side is perhaps better
described as Virtuous Indignation.
The Platonic analysis of the human mind
being thus established, the construction of the
quaternion of Virtues is not difficult.
" It now follows that by the same element and
in the same manner as the City was wise, the
individual must be wise. In the same manner
and by the same element by which the individual
is brave, the City must be brave : and so of the
rest."—" It must."
"And so, G laucon, we must say that an individual
must be just, in the same way in which
the City is just."—" This too must be. "
" But we must not forget that the City was
just, in virtue of the three classes each doing its
own business."
" No, we are not likely to forget that."
" We must remember then that each of us in
whom each part does its own work is a just
man."—" We must remember that."
" Now the work of the rational part is to
govern, it being supposed to be wise, and to ex- 1
ercise a guardianship over the whole soul. And
the irascible part must be obedient to this and
an ally of this. And this agreement must be
brought about by a good education : by gymnastic
and music, as we have said, which will
bring those parts of the soul into concord, nourishing
and strengthening the reason with beautiful
discourse and science, softening, soothing, and
controlling the irascible part by harmony and
rhythm."—" Quite so," said he.
"And these two parts being thus educated
and taught to do their duty, are to be placed over
•
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 105
the concupitive part, which really forms the
largest part in every soul, and which by its nature
never can be satiated. This they will keep
watch over, in order that it may not be filled
too full by what are called corporeal enjoyments,
and so may become too strong, and may not be
content to do its own work only ; but may aspire
to govern those parts with which it has nothing
to do, and so may disturb the whole scheme of
life."—" Exactly so," said he.
" And these two, [Reason and Anger,] thus
working together, the one by counsel, the other
by fighting, will best perform their guardianship
against external enemies : Anger obeying the
Ruler Reason, and giving to Courage the task
which Reason directs."—" Even so."
"And we call each individual brave from the
irascible part of his soul, when it holds fast through
pains and pleasures, the standard of dangerous
and not dangerous settled by the Reason."—
"Right," said he.
" And we call him wise from that small part
of his soul by which he exercises this command
and gives these orders: for that part has the
knowledge of what is best for each part, and for
the whole."—" Even so."
" But we call him temperate or self-controlled
by the agreement and harmony which exist be-.
tween the part which governs and the part which
is governed [the desires], when they agree that the
Reason is to rule, and do not oppose its authority."
" Yes," said he, " that and nothing else is
temperance, either in a city or an individual."
"And he must be just, in the same way, and
through the same cause which we have repeatedly
alleged " [namely, by each part doing its own
work].—" Necessarily."
106 THE REPUBLIC.
"And now is there anything which dulls our 411I vision, and prevents us from seeing that justice
is the same thing in the individual which it was
shown to be in the state ? If any doubt remained
in our minds, we might remove it by tracing the
monstrous consequences of the contrary supposition."
" As how?"
" For instance, with regard both to the City
and to the Individual who resembles the City in
constitution and in training, can we suppose that
he would turn to his own use a deposit of gold
and silver? or that he would be guilty of temple:.
robbery, or theft or fraud, committed either upon
any of his companions or upon the state ? No,
he would be out , of the sphere of such acts. He
would not deviate from good faith either in the
matter of oaths or any other contracts. Adultery,
neglect of parents, disregard of the worship of the
Gods, would be in his course of action least of any 1
one's."—" How could it be otherwise ?"
" And the cause of all this is that each part of
him does its own work, be it to govern or to be
governed."—" That and nothing else."
, " And do you then seek for any other kind
of Justice than this power which we have dewhich
gives rise to such cities and to
such men ?"
" By Jupiter," said he, " I do not."
17
" And so our dream is come true ; and that
which we anticipated is realized ; namely, that in
founding our City we should find there a type 1
and image of Justice."—" Thanks to some divinity
we have found it."
" And so it appears that we have a sort of
image of Justice when we exhort the shoemaker
who is such by his nature, to attend to his shoe-
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 107
making and not to meddle with other things, and
the smith to attend to his smith's work, and the
like. But in the real description of Justice this is
to be applied, not to external actions, but to internal
springs of action; these are not to be allowed
to interfere with each other's work ; the three
elements are to work harmoniously together like
the three notes of a chord, the octave, the keynote,
and the fifth. The man is to combine harmoniously
all the elements of his being, and then
to set about his work, whatever it may be, business
private or public. In all these cases he must
think and call that just which produces and preserves
such a habit ; he must call wisdom the
knowledge which directs such action ; he must
call that unjust which violates this harmony ; and
that he must call depraved knowledge which directs
such a course."
" You say what is quite right, Socrates," said he.
" So be it," said I; " and so if we venture to
say that we have found what is a just man, what
is a just city, and what is justice, which exists
in them, we should probably not be far wrong."
This is agreed to.—" And so then we say."—" So
we say."
Notwithstanding the somewhat triumphant
tone of this conclusion, there is, as I have said,
a want of symmetry and completeness in this Platonic
derivation of the four cardinal virtues. It is
here represented that, as being just, a man is withheld
from theft, adultery, and the like. But it is
plain that such vices arise from the predominance
of the desires, and are prevented when the desires
are controlled by the Reason ; and thus the opposite
virtues are results of Temperance. And thus
this fourth Virtue, Justice, occupies ground already
occupied by [righ] tof the other three.
108 THE REPUBLIC.
Indeed if we apply the Platonic doctrine of
the three springs of action, Reason, Anger and
Desire, in a more simple manner, we shall be led
to a simpler and more coherent ethical system.
Wisdom is the Virtue of Reason ; Courage or
Virtuous Energy exists when Anger is under the
guidance and direction of Reason ; and the empire
of Reason over the Desires may be called
Temperance in a large sense. But of the Desires,
some are Bodily Appetites, and Temperance is
rather spoken of as the due control of these :
others of the Desires refer to more abstract objects,
as for example, Property ; and the regulation of
such Desires by Reason is more commonly called
Justice. And thus we should have an account of
Justice more nearly parallel to the account of the
other Virtues than that which Plato gives us ;
which is indeed somewhat vague and confused.
It is, however, as I have said, propounded
somewhat triumphantly, and Socrates goes on to
conclude his lecture :
" Let this be so," said I : " and now we must
consider what Injustice is. It is plainly a dissonance
of the three elements which we have mentioned
; an interference of one part with another ;
a jumbling together and crossing of purposes among
these parts ; an insurrection of some part which
ought to be subordinate against the part which by
its nature should rule. This confusion and perversion
it is which constitutes Injustice and Intemperance,
and Cowardice, and perverse-mindedness,
and in short vice of every kind.
18 " And so as we see what is Justice and what is
Injustice, we see what it is to do Justice and to
commit Injustice ; and the difference of the two
is manifest."
" What is it ?" said he.
OF THE IDEAL POLITY AND OF VIRTUE. 109
" The same," said I, " in the soul, as the difference
of health and disease in the body. As health
consists in having those parts of the Body superior
and those subordinate which nature intended to be
so ; and disease in having the operation of the
parts contrary to nature ; so Justice causes the
parts of the Soul to govern which are by nature
superior, and Injustice makes some part of the Soul
rule and govern contrary to nature. And so Virtue
is a Health of the mind, a Comeliness and Good
Habit of the Soul, and Vice is a Disease and
Deformity and Weakness of the same.
" Moreover, good actions lead to the possession
of Virtue ; bad actions to the possession of Vice.
"And what remains for us now is, to consider
whether it is advantageous to do good actions, to
practise what is right, and to be just, whether we
are or are not known to be such; or to do wrong and
to be unjust, though we may not incur punishment
or chastisement."
" But," said he, " 0 Socrates, this inquiry
now seems to me absurd. For if when the health
of the body is ruined, life is not tolerable, even in
the midst of all the pleasures of sense and wealth
and power, can it be that when that principle by
which we live [the Soul] is perverted and ruined,
it is worth our while to live, even if we might do
anything that we pleased—anything but that by
which we might get rid of our vice and depravity,
and acquire justice and virtue ; their nature being
such as we have described ?"
" Absurd enough," said I. " But since we
have attained a point of view whence we see clearly
that this is so, we must not flag in our speculations."
" Certainly not by any means must we flag,"
said he.
"Follow me, then," said I, " that you may see
I
110 THE REPUBLIC.
what the forms of vice are ; for it is worth your
while to look at them."
" I follow," said he ; " go on with your explanation."
" Well," said I, " from the point of view to
which we have now mounted, I seem to see as
from a watch-tower, that the form of Virtue is one,
and the forms of Vice are innumerable ; but that
there are four of them which are worth especial
notice."
" How mean you ?" said he.
" As many kinds of polity as there are in
states, so many constitutions of the soul are there
likely to be."
" How many is that ?" said he.
" Five kinds of Polity, five kinds of Soul."
" Name them."
"I say then that the kind of Polity which we
have described [as representing Virtue] is one ;
but it has two names : when the Ruler is one it is
called Monarchy; when several, Aristocracy. This
I call one kind. For neither the one nor the many
would change the fundamental laws of the state ;
being found and educated as we have described."
" Certainly not," said he.
Here the fourth Book ends, though the Dialogue
obviously requires a continuation of the
discussion ;—an exposition of the various forms of
polity different from monarchy and aristocracy,
and of the vices analogous to these imperfect kinds
of polity.
But here come in an enormous series of digressions,
occupying the fifth, sixth and seventh Books..
These digressions treat of the condition of women
in the Ideal Polity, the state of philosophy, and
other large subjects. But in the Eighth Book
REMARKS ON TILE IDEAL POLITY. 111
the continuation of the Fourth Book really appears,
and to that I shall proceed; making it, however,
a separate Part of the Polity.
REMARKS ON THE IDEAL POLITY.
IN some of the Dialogues of the Antisophist class we have
views which may be regarded as anticipations of the system presented
in the Republic. Thus in the Gorgias we have the declaration
(§ 133) that virtue in the soul depends upon its having
a right constitution ; though it is not there stated what the elements
of the soul are, among which the constitution is to be
established. And in the Phaedrus (§ 54) the soul is represented
as a charioteer who has to guide a pair of horses ; one good, and
one bad. These two horses seem to be Reason and Desire, so
that we have not yet here the separation of Desire and Anger as
different springs of action, which is one main point in the Polity.
Plutarch indeed makes the charioteer to be Reason, and the two
steeds to be Desire and Anger ; which makes the system of the
Phaedrus to agree very closely with that of the Polity. But it
appears more likely that the psychological analysis of the springs
of action into Reason, Desire, and Anger, was a step made
by Plato after the incomplete speculations of the Gorgias, the
Phaedrus, and the Philebus ; and was the discovery which set
him upon constructing the system of his Polity. It may seem to
be using too strong an expression to call this step a discovery;
and yet we cannot doubt that Plato so regarded it, when we look
at the very elaborate manner in which he proves the distinction
of Desire and Anger from Reason and from one another. (B. iv.
§ 14, &c.) Indeed to mark the place and office of Anger in the
constitution of man has been regarded as a valuable step in psychology
in more modern times, in the case of our Bishop Butler.
And even now it would seem that Plato's discovery, as he at
least regarded it, is not generally well understood. He held
112 REMARKS ON THE IDEAL POLITY.
Anger to be a necessary element of human virtue ; as a component
of Courage, Zeal, Virtuous Indignation, and the like.
Some of his modern English translators have been so startled by
this doctrine that they refuse to translate the word Anger, and
try to avoid the shock by calling it "the Spirited Element," and
the like : but it is very plain, both from Plato's language and his
illustrations, that he meant plain downright Anger. And that
this feeling may be an element of virtuous sentiments, St Paul
held no less than Plato ; as we see, among other places, by what
he says to the Corinthians (2 Cor. vii. i 1), with obvious approval,
"This...what carefulness it wrought in you ; yea, what clearing
of yourselves ; yea, what indignation ; yea, what fear ; yea, what
vehement desire ; yea, what revenge!" And there can be no
doubt that Anger is really a distinct and important part in the
constitution of man, and that virtue consists in the due direction
and control of it as an important part of morality.
And the main ethical result of the Republic may be expressed
by saying, that the leading springs of Human Action are Reason,
Anger and Desire :—that a virtuous character consists in
the due harmony of these; Reason directing Anger, and both
controlling Desire ; and that Happiness arises from this harmony.
This may appear a very inadequate result of so large an
apparatus of hypothesis and argumentation. Yet the distinct
separation of those three elements of the human soul was really
a great step in ethical philosophy, and has governed the treatment
of the subject ever since. The promised proof of the doctrine
which is rather positively and ostentatiously asserted, here
and elsewhere, that virtue is happiness, even under external circumstances
of the most adverse kind, might, I think, have been
considered by some of Socrates's hearers as incomplete, but it
is supposed to be acquiesced in as decisive.
The Polity being, as I have said, a system resulting from an
advance in Plato's views beyond the other Dialogues which I
have mentioned, must be supposed to have been written at a
later period than they were : that is probably some years after
Plato had 'returned from his travels and established ,himself
in the Academia, which we conceive to have happened about
388 B. c.
REMARKS ON THE IDEAL POLITY. 113
It is stated by some authors that the Polity was published in
separate parts at successive intervals. Aulus Gellius says (xiv. 3)
that Xenophon read two Books of the Republic, which came out
first, and thereupon wrote his Cyropaedia, in opposition to Plato's
scheme. We can hardly conceive any part to have been published
separately which did not go as far as the end of the fourth
Book ; for, short of that, there is no system expounded nor any
conclusion drawn. At that point the system is in a certain sense
completed ; and accordingly I have terminated the Second Part
at that point.
That other parts of the Polity, as it now stands, were published
by Plato, that is, read or in some way delivered to his disciples,
separately, and that this was done at a subsequent period,
is a supposition which the structure of the work strongly supports.
As I shall have to notice, in the later parts of the work, the
complex element, Desire, is analysed into several separate Desires;
and the phraseology is more definite and compact than it is
in the earlier Books. And as to the separation of our Part III.
from Part II., we may remark, that though the eighth Book is
and professes to be an immediate sequel to the fourth, there intervenes
a vast series of digressions, which if delivered at first along
with the parts of the system, must have overwhelmed and obscured
all perception of system, and overtasked the patience of
the most devoted disciples. Considered as disquisitions on special
points, followed out at leisure in the Platonic school, when the
Polity had become an established topic, they are intelligible and
interesting.
Difficulties have been raised as to the date of the publication
of the Polity, by commentators who have supposed that the functions
of women in the Platonic Polity are ridiculed in the
Ecclesiazusae or Female Parliament of Aristophanes, which was brought
upon the stage IL C. 392; and that therefore the Polity must have
been published before that date. But in truth there is no ground
for supposing that the Comedy had any special reference to the
Platonic Polity. Such an extravaganza as the Female Parliament
has often suggested itself to the dealer in fiction; and the institutions
of Sparta exhibited in a real form some of the traits of the
Female State. And the manner in which Plato anticipates and
protests against the ridicule which proposals like his might excite
PLAT. III.
114 REMARKS ON THE IDEAL POLITY.
(Rep. B. v. § 3), rather suggests the belief that such a plan had
already been made the subject of ridicule in some public manner,
and thus that the Female part of the Platonic Polity was published
after the Female Parliament.
As to the dramatic date of the Polity—the period when the
Dialogue is supposed to be held,—the date which suits best with
the notes of time in the Dialogue itself appears to be about
B. C. 41o; when Socrates was 58 years old; Plato 2o, and his
two brothers, Glaucon and Adeimantus, probably a few years
older; when Lysias (afterwards the Orator), who was the son
of Cephalus, and is present at the Dialogue (see § 2), had just
returned from Thurii, to which he went at an early age; when
Perdiccas (see § 9) had long been known as king of Macedon,
and Niceratus, the son of Nikias, who was also present (§ 1), and
who was a boy at the time of the Laches, was now a man. Some
doubt has been thrown upon this date because the author of the
Lives of Ten Rhetors, sometimes called Plutarch, says that Cephalus
died before the departure of his son Lysias ; hut this is very
insecure authority, and moreover could not be followed without
throwing the whole of Plato's dramatic representation into confusion.

THE REPUBLIC.
PART III.—OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND
OF VICES.
(Republic, B. vim and ix. § 1-17.)
HAVING at the end of the Fourth Book established
the constitution of the Perfect Polity
and the character of the Virtuous Man, Socrates
announces that the next subject of discussion is to
be the deviations from this polity and from this
character. This subject is taken up in the beginning
of the Eighth Book ; the intermediate Books,
in the form in which the work has come down to
us, being occupied with digressions. I shall proceed
to give an account of this continuation of the
Republic; dealing, however, rather with the matter
than with the detail of the Dialogue. Glaucon
says, referring to the end of the Fourth Book :
" You had finished describing the constitution 1
of your city, and said that such a city you called
good, and also a man whose constitution was like
that of the city ; and you added, that if this was
good, all the rest were wrong. You proceeded to say,
if I recollect, that there were four other forms of
polity which it was worth our while to consider ;
to examine their defects and to estimate the individual
men who resemble them :—this we were to
1 2
116 THE REPUBLIC.
do, that we might see who is the best man and
who is the worst man, and so might decide whe- ,
ther the best man is the happiest and the worst
the most miserable, or how otherwise. And when
I was asking you what were these four kinds of
polity, Polemarchus and Adeimantus interposed,
and you followed their lead, and so are come to the
present stage of the discussion."
" You remember the course of the conversation
quite rightly."
" Now then do, as wrestlers do. Give me the
same hold of you again. Supposing me to ask the
same question, give me the answer which you
were then going to give."
" Well," said I, " I will if I can."
" I want to know what are the four polities of
which you spoke."
" It is easy to name them," said I. " They
have names which are well known. First, there
is that which is admired by many, the Cretan and
Laconian, [Timocracy]. Secondly, there is the one
which is next in general estimation, and which is
called Oligarchy; a polity full of evils. Next there
is a different polity, Democracy ; and last and different
again, is Tyranny, the fourth, the climax
of political disease. These are all ; for can you
mention any really distinct kind of polity that is
different from these? Monarchies by descent, and
constitutions in which offices are sold, may still be
ranked with these; for such there are both among -
the barbarians and Greeks."
" Many and strange constitutions !" said he.
2 " And you know that there must be so many
kinds of character of men, as there are of polities.
[The state must derive its character from the indi
vidual;] or do you think that states have their
origin,from oaks or rocks? [though men have not,
:: 3 I
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 117
as Homer makes Achilles say :] do you not think
that they are determined by the manners of their
citizens; which in whatever direction they go, draw
the institutions of the state after them ?"
This is assented to : and so, as Socrates says,
there being five kinds of Polity, there must be
five kinds of individual character.
These they now proceed to examine.
" The individual who resembles an Aristocracy,
we have already passed in review. We say that
lie is the virtuous and just man.
" And now we must pass in review the worse
characters :—the ambitious, who is on the model
of the Lacedmonian state ; the oligarchic, the
democratic, and the tyrannic man. This we must
do that we may put in antithesis the most just and
the most unjust man ; and see how pure justice is
relatively to pure injustice in respect of happiness
and misery : and so may take the advice of Thrasymachus,
and make injustice our line of action ;
or else justice, in favour of which the arguments
now seem to prevail."
Socrates then proceeds to explain, at some
length, the several kinds of evil polity, and the
analogous vicious characters ; introducing various
fanciful hypothetical histories by which they may
be connected. The symmetry of this Platonic
system would perhaps be more evident, if it were
stated more briefly, with less variety of phrase and
fewer attendant circumstances. The statement
would then amount to this :—that the bad polity
may result from the predominance of the military
class, or of the wealthy class, or of the lower classes
generally, or of some one master :—and that the
characters corresponding to these evil polities are
the ambitious man, who is actuated by the desire
of superiority ; the avaricious man, who is pos-
118 THE REPUBLIC.
sessed by the love of wealth ; the ungoverned and
unstable man, who is ruled by the whole mob of
passions ; and the darker criminal who is impelled
by some master passion which tramples down all
control. The first Polity Plato calls a Timocracy;
for which name he gives reasons ; although in this
use of the word he differs from Aristotle, as we
shall see. The second Polity he calls an Oligarchy;
meaning, it would seem, an Oligarchy of
Wealth ; for the former Polity is by the hypothesis
an Oligarchy no less. The third Polity is a Democracy,
and the fourth a Tyranny. I will give
a few traits of the several parts of this exposition.
What Plato's Timocracy is, is plain from the
course of the Dialogue. " Having considered the
best form of government, Aristocracy, we must now
go through the less good forms ; and first the ambitious
and contentious, the Laconian; the Timocratic,
as I may call it, for I know no other name
for it."
He then proceeds to give a hypothetical explanation
of the transition from Aristocracy to
Timocracy. "All revolution from one form of government
to another must arise from some dissension
in the governing part. And now, how may
such a revolution arise in the state which we have
imagined ? May a dissension arise between the
Rulers and the Warriors ? Shall we invoke the
Muses to reveal to us the origin of this dissension,
as Homer invokes them to sing the dissensions of
Achilles and Agamemnon, and shall we make them
speak in a lofty and poetical style, as if they were
telling poetical tales to children, and yet in earnest?"
Having thus prepared the hearer to expect
something of poetical fiction and poetical expression
in his account, he proceeds to declare, as
from the Muses, that states, like the generations of
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 119
plants and animals, are subject to certain cycles of
growth and decay. These cycles are governed by
a certain geometrical number, of which the origin
and construction are described in a very obscure
and mystical manner, which has given rise to
many interpretations by scholars and mathematicians.
This Numerus Platonicus still continues to
be a crux of the commentators. It is however
unessential to the general argument, and I shall
pass it by.
" The result of this discord in the elements of
the State is then described as making the Rulers
less apt to discern the ages or races of gold and
of silver, of brass and of iron, of which Hesiod
speaks, and which exist in our city. (See Book
§ 20.) And so the iron is mixed with the silver
and the brass with the gold, and in these is a defect
in homogeneity, which ever breeds war and
discord. And this is the origin of that dissension
of which we spoke." This Socrates gives as the
account delivered by the Muses. "And," says
his friend, " we must say that they have answered
well."
" How could they do otherwise, Muses as they
are ?"
He goes on in the same playful vein to trace 3
further the consequences of this schism in the
State. The different classes, the races of brass
and of iron (that is the artisans and husbandmen),
aspire to enrich themselves and to acquire lands,
houses, gold and silver ; while the races of gold
and silver (the Rulers and Soldiers) hold to the
old constitution.
And the result of this dissension is that they
come to an agreement that the Soldiers shall form
a military aristocracy possessing the land, while
the husbandmen and artisans occupy it as their
120 THE REPUBLIC.
dependents, like Periokoi; (the Provincials of Laconia
and of Crete).
This is a Polity, he remarks, intermediate
between Aristocracy and Oligarchy, meaning by
Aristocracy the best kind of government. It agrees
with this in its respect for the magistrates, the
aversion of the soldiers to the pursuits of agriculture
and trade, and the habit of dining at a common
table, and of cultivating gymnastic and military
exercises. On the other hand, the predominance
of military rule will exclude the wise men who are
the natural rulers. And these military rulers will
really nourish in secret a love of wealth, and will
lavish it upon their private pleasures, driven to
this course by the want of the culture which the
true Muse gives, namely philosophy and music,
which they have deserted for gymnastic. "And
so," as Glaucon observes, " this kind of state is
mingled of good and ill." " But its most prominent
character is," Socrates rejoins, " that it is
contentious and ambitious."
" And now, who is the man who corresponds
to this kind of state ? What is his character ?"
4 " I think," says Adeimantus, jesting at his
brother, " he must be something very like this our .r
Glaucon, at least so far as ambition is concerned."
We may recollect, as illustrative of Glaucon's
ambitious character, what Xenophon tells us in
the Memorabilia (ill. 6), that when he was not
yet twenty years old he attempted to ascend the
bema of the political orators, and was with difficulty
I
dragged down and laughed down by his friends.
Socrates replies :
" In that trait perhaps there may be a likeness
: but in other things not so. He must be
more self-willed and less fond of literature; though
he too may have a love of literature, and may be
- .
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 121
fond of reading or hearing, but by no means of
speaking in public. To his slaves he will be
fierce, not treating them with contempt, like a
man well brought up ; to freemen gentle, submissive
to rulers ; eager for superior place and honour,
but not seeking them by eloquence, but by warlike
deeds and arts ; fond of bodily exercise and of the
chase. "
" That," says his friend, "is really the character
of the man who corresponds to such a polity."
Socrates adds another trait:
" As a young man, he despises wealth ; but as
he grows older, the love of riches which is in his
nature, grows stronger ; the more so, as his nature
is not pure, and wants the best guardian."
" What is that ?" Adeimantus asks.
" Philosophy joined with Music. That alone
once implanted in the soul, keeps it virtuous
through life. And that is the timocratic young
man."
We then have a hypothetical history of the
way in which such a character is generated.
" His character is formed in some such way as
this. He is, it may be, the son of a father who is a
good man, but living in a state not well governed,
shuns public office and honours and all that bustle,
and tries to be obscure, so as not to be troubled
with such things. And this being so, the youth
hears his mother lamenting that her husband is
nobody among the men, and that thereby she is
nobody among the women....He hears her declare
she has lost all patience with him ; that he is indolent
and a man of no character, and such other
things as women in like case use to say. And in
such families, the servants, too, often say things of
the same kind to the son of the house, to ingratiate
themselves with him. And if the youth runs in
122 THE REPUBLIC.
debt, and the father does not help him out, or fails
him in any other way, they exhort him to set all
such matters right when he is a man, and so to be
a better man than his father. And he learns the
like lessons out of doors. He sees those who mind
their own business despised as fools, and those who
meddle with other people's business rewarded with
praise and honour. And so the youth, impelled by
these various influences,—the rational principle
which he has from his father being still strong in
him, while others excite the irascible and concupitive
principles, as he is not bad by nature but is
misled by these evil communications, takes a middle
course ;—he gives the ascendancy to the irascible
and contentious principles, and so becomes an
aspiring and ambitious man."
This fanciful and detailed account of the do- 1
mestic circumstances by which an ambitious character
is formed, is so particular that it might almost
be deemed a portrait of some actual person. It is
however accepted as merely hypothetical. And
Socrates says that having thus disposed of the
second Polity and the second man, they must proceed.
to another : quoting Æschylus, who, in the
Seven against Thebes, speaks of the seven chiefs as
"Each man against the City separate stands."
Or rather, he says, as before, we must take the City
first.
5 " We must now, therefore, consider the form of
government which is called Oligarchy : that is,
when people have a place in the state according to
their income ; so that the rich are the rulers, and
the poor have no political power.
" How a timocracy passes into such an oligarchy
as this, even a blind man," Socrates says, " may see.
The love of wealth grows with possession. Men,
11
1
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 123
in spite of laws, expend more and more upon themselves
and their wives. This becomes a matter of
emulation among them. They value wealth more
and more, virtue less and less. And so from being
ambitious they become avaricious • worship wealth
rather than honour; put the rich man in high
places and despise the poorer man. And then they
make offices of power depend on the amount of a
man's riches, and exclude from them every one
who has not a certain amount of wealth.
" Such is the origin of oligarchy. Its evils
are, in the first place, that the Rulers are not
chosen for their fitness, and therefore are not
likely to be fit for their office. In the next place,
that the City is, in fact, two cities, one of rich men
and one of poor men. They inhabit the same
place, but are always framing designs the one
against the other. Then in the third place, the
City has little strength for war. If they arm the
many, they will have to fear them more than they
fear the enemy : if they do not, they will have an
army truly oligarchical, for it will be the few.
" But the greatest of all the evils belonging to 6
such a state is that a man may get rid of all that
he has, another may acquire it, and so the former
man may go on living in the City without being
any part of it—neither tradesman nor artificer,
horsesoldier nor footsoldier ; but a pauper—an impotent
person. This vice is universal and irremediable
in oligarchies. And the man who has
thus spent his possessions has done no good to
the state: whatever his position might be, he was
really a prodigal and nothing more. He was like
a drone in a hive of bees, a mere excrescence of
the state.
" But the winged drones in a swarm of bees
are all constituted by providence without stings ;
of our biped drones, some have not stings, some
124 THE REPUBLIC.
have very formidable ones. Those without stings
continue paupers to the end of their days : of those
that have stings come all the race of malefactors.
When you see a city full of poor classes, you may
be sure that there are among them thieves and
pickpockets and burglars, and all such evil practitioners.
And so in oligarchical states there are
many such dangerous people whom the magistrates
only keep down by force.
7 " Such is the oligarchical city, and these and
more than these are the evils which exist in it.
And now let us see who is the man whom such a
state represents ; how he is formed, and what is his
character.
" The son [of a man in a timarchical state] is
at first disposed to follow in his father's footsteps :
but sees the state to be a rock on which his
father suffers shipwreck and loses all ;—perhaps
in consequence of having had to command an army,
and then being dragged to a trial by informers,
and punished with death, or exile, or infamy, and
the loss of all his havings. The young man, seeing
all this, finding himself destitute, and fearing
what may happen to himself, drives ambition and
an aspiring temper away from his soul's throne ;
and humbled by poverty turns to money-making,
and by toiling and sparing gets together a mass
of riches. Do you not suppose that then he will
place upon the throne of which we have spoken,
the Love of Money ; that he will make that the
Great King of his soul, put upon it a tiara, gird it
with the robe and sword of an eastern monarch?
Neither Reason nor virtuous Zeal can hold their '
place in opposition to this predominant Greed.
He only reasons how less may be made more, he
is only zealous in his admiration of riches and rich
men ; he is only ambitious of wealth or something
which may lead to wealth."
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 125
" Certainly," says Adeimantus, " there can be
no other way so swift and sure of changing an .
ambitious young man into an avaricious one."
" And now," says Socrates, " what is the cha- 8
ratter of the man thus formed? He is like the
oligarchical state. He thinks wealth the greatest
thing in the world. He is penurious and laborious,
and grants to nature no more than the
necessary desires require, cutting down all other
expenses, subjugating his other desires as unprofitable.
He is a sordid man, who makes money out
of everything, and hoards it when made : a quality
which the many much admire."
He then goes on to trace in the avaricious man
what is analogous to the division of the oligarchical
state into rich and poor, and to the evil propensities
of the poor.
" This avaricious man has not been well educated.
Hence he has those desires which in the
state we compared to drones, some of them beggars,
some of them criminals, kept in subjection only by
the dominant power. And how will the criminal
part of his Desires appear ? It will come out
when he has the guardianship of an orphan, or
some other opportunity of doing wrong with impunity.
In other cases where he has to act in
concert with other men, he will look to his reputation
for being an honest man, and will control the
evil desires that are in him ; not because he thinks
it really good to do so, nor in obedience to reason,
but through necessity and fear of endangering his
possessions. It is not that there are no factions
in the breast of such a man. He is two men, not
one ; but for the most part the better desires
control the worse. He will be more decent than
other persons ; but true unity of soul and love of
virtue are far from him. He is not well fitted for
12 6 THE REPUBLIC.
the competition of public life. He is too sparing
of his money ; for he is afraid to arouse the host
of Desires that might be auxiliaries, but might also
be insurgents, and that would lead to expense; and
so using only a part of his revenues, he is almost
always beaten, but always grows rich. And so
the covetous man is a parallel to the oligarchical
city."
We come next to the consideration of Democracy,
its occasion, its character, and that of the
man who is analogous to it. And here, as before,
the hypothetical history is so special and the traits
of character are so grotesque, as to suggest the
suspicion that some particular state and particular
man are spoken of. Socrates discourses to this
effect, obtaining, as usual, assent at each step.
" The change from oligarchy to democracy
takes place in some such way as this. It arises from
the love of wealth, regarded at first, as the greatest
good. The Rulers, made such by their wealth
only, will not restrain by laws the profligacy of the
young. They like them to spend all they have,
that they themselves may purchase their estates,
and have them dependent on them by usury, and
so may become more rich and more powerful still.
The worship of wealth is inconsistent with temperate
and virtuous habits ; and the facilities of
profuse and profligate indulgence in oligarchical
states often reduce men of ability to a state of
destitution ; and so you have in such a state a
class—drones with formidable stings such as we
spoke of—composed of persons in debt, or in
infamy, or in both, who are waiting for their opportunity
to put down those who have deprived
them of their havings, and are eager for a revolution.
And all this while the greedy oligarchs are
blind to this state of things, and are employed in
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 127
extracting fresh gains from their remaining victims
by extravagant usury : and thus will not apply
the only remedy to this evil ; which is, either to
prohibit men from selling their estates, or to make
the lenders lend at their own risk. And so the
governed become profligate and effeminate, and the
rulers are engrossed in the care of their money.
" The classes being thus disposed towards one
another, when the governors and the governed find
any occasion to compare their strength—when
they travel together, or meet together in the public
spectacles, or in the army, in a voyage or in a
campaign, or in any occasion of danger—the rich
soon see that they have no ground to despise the
poor. It will often happen that men are ranged
side by side, a poor man strong and sunburnt, and
a rich man bred in the shade, laden with much
superfluous flesh, asthmatic and helpless ; and
then do you not think that the poor man will say
to himself, They owe their riches to our cowardice'?
and such men will say among themselves,
Our great men are worth very little.' And, as
when a body is in bad condition it only needs the
smallest external accident to bring out disease,
and sometimes disease shows itself without any
external cause; so a state which is in this condition
falls into factions on the smallest pretext ; for instance,
if the oligarchy seek the help of another
oligarchical city, or if the people have recourse
to a democratical city, or sometimes the factions
break out with no external influence..
" And then, when the poor get the upper hand, 10
they put to death or banish their adversaries, and
distribute public offices equally among all who
remain, generally by lot ; and so there is a Democracy."
" Yes," says the other, " that is the way a
128 THE REPUBLIC.
Democracy comes in ; whether the parties come to
actual conflict, or the rich retire at the prospect of
the danger."
" And now what is the character of the City so
constituted ? for the democratic man, too, must
have a like character. In the first place the City is
entirely free ; every body in it does and says what
he likes. Every one takes the course of life
which he likes best. And as there are in the
City men of all characters, this produces a great
variety. There is a beauty in this polity arising
from this variety. It is like a garment of many
colours diversified with flowers of every kind. And
women and children, who like a collection of gay
colours, may naturally think this the most beautiful
polity.
" And such a City is a place where we may conveniently
seek a polity for ourselves : for every
kind of polity is to be found there. It is a sort of
bazaar, where you may see patterns of all kinds of
governments ; and people who, like us, want to
found a new city, may find the plan of it there.
" And is there not something marvellously convenient
to be in a place where you are not obliged
to do anything? You need not be a Governor, if
you do not wish it, however fit you may be : you
need not be governed ; you need not be at war
when the others are at war, nor at peace except
you like peace. If any law prevents you taking
an office, or acting as a judge, you may nevertheless
take the office and assume the judge.
" And is there not a peculiar indulgence shown
to men under condemnation ? Have you not seen
in such a city, men who had been sentenced to
death or to exile, nevertheless staying in the city
and going about among other people ; nobody
noticing such a man or caring about the law, he
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 129
walks among them like a hero? All this magnanimous
indulgence, this disregard of small scruples,
how completely it tramples under foot the maxims
of government which we were simple enough to
lay down, about the need of a good education. All
education is here disregarded ; and the man is
honoured if only he calls himself a friend of the
people.
" And these, and the like of these, are the
characters of democracy. It is, as we see, a pleasant
kind of government, or of no government,
beautifully chequered, establishing an equality
among the equal and the unequal alike."
We see that Athens is in the thoughts of the
writer, during this satirical and ironical description.
" Yes," says his friend, " you utter well-known
truths."
" And now look," said I, " at the individual 11
who is like this. Or rather let us first consider,
as in the case of the state, how the character originates."
But we may conveniently abridge this account.
It amounts in effect to this • that the son of an oligarchical
father, educated ill, and parsimoniously, is 12
liable to an insurrection of the desires which tend
to luxurious pleasures • and so is led to reject the
authority of reason, and to hold that all the desires
alike are to be obeyed. And so he lives for
the present day without care or control, indulging
the desire of the moment: sometimes revelling and
swilling wine ; sometimes fasting and drinking
water ; then, devoted to gymnastics ; sometimes to
bodily ease ; sometimes sedulous about philosophy,
and often about politics. Sometimes he is emulous
of men of war ; sometimes of men of business.
There is no order nor rule in his life ; yet he calls
it sweet and free and happy.
PLAT. III.
,
130 THE REPUBLIC.
"And the man whom we describe, like the city
which I described, is full of all kinds of fancies,
pretty and variegated."
" Yes," says the friend, "you have described
the life of a democratic man : a man free from
control."
1.3 "And now we have to describe the finest polity
of all, and the finest man; Tyranny and the Tyrant."
" And how does Tyranny arise from Democracy?"—"
Much in the same way in which Democracy
arises from Oligarchy : as in that case, from
the exaggerated love of the supposed greatest good,
money, so in this, from the exaggerated love of
that which is conceived as the greatest good,
liberty. In a democratic city, you hear everybody I
say that liberty is the most precious thing in the
world, and that he who is born a freeman cannot
live in any other condition."
" Yes, said he, " we often hear that said.
And how does this temper give rise to tyranny ?"
" Thus," said I : " ' When a democracy is
intoxicated with liberty, the Rulers, if they are
not very indulgent, and do not give abundant freedom
to the people, are subjected to punishment on
charges of treasonable and oligarchical practices.
Those who are obedient to the magistrates are insulted
as servile and contemptible. The Rulers
who resemble the subjects, the subjects who resemble
the Rulers, are praised and honoured in
private and in public. Everything is guided by
this notion of freedom. It makes its way into
private life in the shape of family anarchy, which
extends even to the cattle. The father assumes
the habits of the son, and stands in fear of his son. 1
The son, on his part, has no reverence for his
1 This is translated by Cicero in his Republic, i. 43•
•
j
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 131
father, for he is a freeman. The teacher fears and
pays court to his pupils • the pupils disregard the
teacher and tutor. In all respects the young men
are on terms of equality with the old ; dispute with
them in words, oppose them in deeds. The old
sit in the company of the young, and enjoy with
them the pleasures of luxury and good fellowship,
that they may not appear harsh and despotic.
And what is the last step in such a case? Slaves,
male and female, are no less free than those who
have bought them ; and as for the freedom and
equality of women towards men, and of men towards
women, I had almost forgotten to speak
of it."
Socrates is disposed to add even more grotesque
traits of freedom, but he hesitates :
" May one," he says, " according to Æschylus's
phrase, utter what comes to the lips ? Well then,"
he says, " this freedom extends even to brutes. For
verily the dogs, according to the proverb, are like
their masters 1 ; and the horses and asses walk
along the roads in a most free and independent
manner, running against any one they meet if
he do not get out of the way."
" Why," said he, "you remind me of what I
had dreamt. I never go into the country without
meeting with such adventures."
" But the end of all this is," said I, " that the
citizens become sensitive and touchy, and will
not bear any laws, either written or unwritten,
that they may be sure they are not under a
master."
We may imagine that Plato had, by retirement
in his grove of Academus, become so fastidious, that
lie saw, in the tumult of the great roads near
Athens, disgusting characteristics of the coarse de-
' In the original mistresses.
K 2
•
132 THE REPUBLIC. •
14 mocracy. Socrates goes on with his history of the
rise of tyranny.
"And this," said I, "is the fair and juvenile
source from which tyranny springs, as seems to me."
" Juvenile, certainly," said he ; " but what follows?"
Socrates then proceeds to describe the growth
of the ascendancy of a tyrant in a democratic state,
having plainly the history of Pisistratus in his
mind. " Every excess," he says, " brings in its
opposite.; and so the excess of liberty brings in
slavery. In popular governments alone does tyranny
spring up, and the most unbounded liberty
is succeeded by the most complete and intolerable
despotism.
15 " The agent of this change is the multitude,
who manage all the public affairs, swarm round
the bema of the public speaker, and by their
humming and murmuring prevent all speaking on
the opposite side. These are ready to attack the
rich, and to seize their property. The rich defend
themselves, and are therefore accused of a tendency
to oligarchy. Then there come accusations and
trials and judicial struggles. And then the People
always select some one man as their Protectors, and
put all the power they can into his hands. When
a Tyrant comes into bloom, it is always from a
Protectorial root.
" And how does the Protector become a Tyrant ?
It is when that happens to him which they speak
of as happening in the Temple of Lycean Jove in
Arcadia : that he who takes human entrails mixed
with the other entrails of the sacrifice becomes a
wolf. So the Leader of the People when, supported
by them, he does not stop short of the
.destruction of his countrymen ; on false accusations
1 7rpOCTT4T77S.
7.70
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 133
brings them before tribunals and seeks their destruction
; dips his unhallowed lips and tongue in
the blood of his brother-citizens ; drives men into
exile and to death, and abolishes debts and divides
estates among the multitude,—he brings himself '
into a condition in which he must either perish
by the hands of his enemies, or become a wolf,
that is, reign as a tyrant.
" And if he be expelled by the rich and afterwards
return in triumph, he is still more a tyrant
than he was before. Then the rich conspire against
him. And then he introduces that famous tyrant's
request, which all who have arrived at this point
make, that the People will give him a guard, that
he, the Defender of the People, may be safe from
danger. And so they give it him, having fears
about his safety, but no fears about their own.
And now every man of property sees this, and
knowing that his property is sure to make him
regarded as an enemy of the People, takes a course
like that recommended by the oracle to Crcesus 1 :
' To rocky Hermus flee,
Nor stay, nor shame thee to be styled a coward.'"
" Yes," said he, " he would not have the opportunity
of shaming him' twice."
" No," said I ; " he who stays behind is put
to death. And it is plain that this Protector of
whom we speak does not fall asleep in his greatness
: he strikes down his enemies, mounts the
chariot of the State, and from the Protector becomes
the Tyrant complete."
• " And now," Socrates says ironically, " let us
take a survey of the happiness of the condition of
the man, and of the city in which such a man is
brought into being.
1 See the story, Herodotus, I. 55.
134 THE REPUBLIC.
" In his first days he smiles upon all, embraces
all that he meets. He protests he is no tyrant.
He is prodigal of promises in public, and in private
he frees debtors from their debts ; he distributes
• land to the people and to his favourites, and affects
kindness and affability to all. But when he has
got rid of his external enemies, some by agreement
and some by victory, and is at ease with regard
to them, he is always stirring in some war, that
the People may need a leader. And also that the
people by their contributions to the expenses of
the war may be the poorer ; and may be compelled
to attend day by day to their necessary wants, instead
of plotting against him. And if there be
any who nourish thoughts of freedom, he will get
rid of them by sending them against the enemy.
On all these accounts he must always be at war.
" And so, it will be necessary for him to remove
every man of any importance ; every man
who has courage or elevation of character or
wealth. This is his happiness ; that he must
needs, whether he will or no, be the enemy of all
such, and practise against them till he has purged I
the city of them."
" A proper purge indeed," said Adeimantus.
17 " Yes," said I, " different from that practised
by physicians. They purge out all the bad elements
: he must purge out the good. And so he
must either perish, or live with the most despicable ;
part of the populace, and hated even by them."
He then goes on to say that the tyrant will
be able to surround himself with guards from the
dangerous classes—the drones with stings—of all
countries, and from slaves whom he may buy and
enfranchise. And then his satellites admire him,
while all honest men hate and fly him ?
" At last when the People get tired of him they
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 135
will refuse to supply his expenses, and will say
that a grown-up son of the state should not be a
burthen to his father : that rather he should take
upon himself the maintenance of his father :—that
they did not adopt him as their Protector with the
expectation of having to support him, and these
slaves and reprobates, and thus to be ;he slave of
his slaves ; but in order to throw off the yoke of
the rich and of the gentlemen', as they are called;
and so they beg him and his companions to march
off and go out of the City."
" And then," said Adeimantus, " the People
will know what kind of wild beast it has nourished
and pampered, and that it is the weaker part trying
to drive out the stronger."
" How do you say ?" I asked. " Will the
Tyrant disobey his parent, and beat him if he
resist ?"
" Yes," said he ; " and will take his arms from
him."
" Then the tyrant is an ungrateful son, a parricide
; and so we see that what men say of a tyranny
is true ; that the People running away from
the smoke of servitude, run into the fire of despotism
; and exchange an excessive liberty for a hard
and bitter slavery."
" Even so," said he.
" And now we may venture to say that we
have duly surveyed the way in which a tyranny
arises out of a democracy, and what kind of thing
it is."
" We have done that sufficiently," said he.
" There remains to be considered," said I,
" the tyrannic man: how he is produced out of the
democratic man ; and what life he lives, wretched
or happy."
1 Kaxol Kayzeoi.
136 THE REPUBLIC.
B. ix. Socrates having thus propounded the remain-
§ 1 ing part of his subject, proceeds to supply, as he
says, some deficiency 'in the account which he had
given of the Desires. The amount of this account
is, that the Desires are capable of monstrous development
when the control of reason is quite removed,
as may be seen in the atrocities of which men
feel themselves capable in their dreams. In this
way some one of the Desires may become an over-
2 mastering passion ; and the democratic youth, who
was supposed to be given up to the sway of all the
Desires, may become the subject of one tyrannical
Desire : and thus may become analogous to the
city ruled by a Tyrant.
This is the essential part of Socrates's exposition
; and it is, I think, obscured and confused by
various details and images which are combined
with it; especially the images drawn from a swarm
of bees. The youth is counselled to moderation
by his father and his friends : " but those clever
magicians and tyrant-makers who urge him the opposite
way, when they find they cannot get complete
hold of him in any other manner, produce in
his bosom some Master Desire, which takes the lead
among the self-indulging Desires. This Desire is
like a great drone in a hive ; and the other Desires
buzz about it, pamper it, and give it a sting. And
so this Master of the soul becomes wild with excitement
; and kills all the good and modest Desires
and casts them out. The excitement is like '
the excitement of love or of intoxication or of 1
melancholy.
3 " Well, in this way such a character is pro- 1,
duced. And now, how does he live ?"
"I must answer," said he, " as people do in
games : That you must tell me."
" Well," I said, " the man who is so possessed 1
.11''
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 137
will give himself up to feasts and revels and courtezans.
Day and night his desires will become
more and more craving. His wealth will be exhausted.
He will borrow and spend all that he
has. His desires will become more importunate ;
will drive him onwards like a madman, in search
of plunder, which he must have, or must writhe
under his privation. And when he has squandered
all that is his own, he falls back upon his father
and mother, and tries to take what they have. If
they yield it not, he uses force or fraud. If the
old people resist, would he refrain from deeds of
violence?"
" In truth," said he, " I should not feel very
easy for the lot of his parents."
" What, Adeimantus! for God's sake, would he,
for the sake of a mistress taken up yesterday, beat
or imprison his mother who has loved him so long
and so dearly, or his father the oldest and closest
of his friends ?"
" Faith, he would !" said he.
" A happy thing, it seems, it is to have a son
who is the tyrannic man !"
" Not very," said he.
Well ! But when he has consumed what he
can get from father and mother, and still his Desires
cry out for more, he will have to turn burglar,
highway-robber, temple-pillager. He will be,
awake and in reality, such as we spoke of a man
being in his most wicked dreams. No crime, no
atrocity will stop him. His Tyrant-desire will
treat him as the Tyrant treats the state :—will carry
him on to every wickedness by which the host of
Desires may be gratified and fed."
There is then another consideration introduced,
which again seems to me to confuse the image of
the tyrannic man. A number of such men are
13 8 THE REPUBLIC.
supposed. If there be but few, they go away and
enter the service of some foreign Tyrant ; or those
who remain at home become thieves, robbers, kidnappers
and the like : or if they have the gift of
speaking, they become public informers and hired
accusers or defenders. Small evils these compared
with the greater evils that may be. Compared
with the misery of political tyranny, they do not
come near the mark. But when there are many
such men, they, using the madness of the people,
engender the Tyrant, setting up him who has the
most of the Tyrant in his soul. "
" Rightly, said he; " for he is most supremely
tyrannic."
" And then if the opponents yield, so it is : but
if the city resist, as he did violence to his father
and his mother, so will he to his fatherland and
his mother-country use force by the means of his
satellites. And this is the course of such a man."
4 It is then explained that such men are faithless,
unrighteous, incapable of true liberty or
friendship. And thus the complete villain is he,
who being in his character the tyrannic man, is in
his position the monarch. And the longer his
tyranny lasts, the more is this true.
" It must be so," said Glaucon, taking up the
discourse.
" And now," said I, " is he who is thus the
greatest villain also the most miserable man? And
is he more miserable in proportion as his tyranny
lasts longer? The common people do not all think
so."
" But still," said he, " it must be so."
" Yes : must not the tyrannic man be to the
tyrannic or tyrannized city as the democratic man
to the democratic city, and as the rest, each to
each ? And so, as the citizen to the city, in happi-
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 139
ness as well as in virtue, so is the man to the man.
And so as the aristocratic city is the best, the tyrannic
city is the worst ; and as the former is the
most happy, the latter is the most miserable. Is
it not so ?
" Let us not be dazzled by looking at the Tyrant
alone, and at a few who are near him. Let
us enter within the city, and look into every part
of it, that we may form a just opinion."
" What you propose is right. And it is evident
to all the world that no state is more miserable
than that which is subject to a tyrant, none
more happy than that which is rightly governed."
" And we must judge in the same way of men.
We must enter into their interior. We must not,
like children, be imposed upon by the external
show of the tyrannic man. We must look into
his heart. And as in the case of a political tyrant
we should wish to have the testimony of some one
who has lived with him, and seen him stripped of
the pompous vestments and accompaniments of the
stage : for such a man could tell us if the tyrant
was happy or miserable ; so let us imagine we
come close to the tyrannic man, and judge of his
condition."
" And we may judge of the man's condition by 5
similarity from that of the city. Look at the conditions
of both. The city is not free, but enslaved;
not enslaved the less because the tyrant is free.
And the tyrannic man is in the same condition.
His soul is full of slavery. The most respectable
parts of it are under a yoke. The small part
which is master of the rest is that part which is
most mean and most mad. The tyrannized soul
cannot do what it would. It is forcibly driven on
by an inward sting. It is filled with shame and
remorse. The tyrannized city too, like the tyran-
140 THE REPUBLIC.
nixed soul, is poor and starved. The city is full of
fear. There you find, far more than any where
else, weeping and wailing ; and will you find
more misery in any one than in the man who
is mad with desires and appetites, the tyrannic
man? The city is the most miserable of cities :
and what do you say of the tyrannic man?"
" That he is," said Glaucon, " the most miserable
of men."
" No," said I, " you are not yet quite right.
There may be a still more unhappy man."
" Who ?"
" He who being a tyrannic man by nature,
does not live the life of a private man, hut is so
unhappy as by some occasion to become really a
tyrant."
" Even so : from what has been said I conjecture
that to be true."
" But in a case so important, we should not be
content with conjecture, but proceed rigorously,
as I shall do."
He then proceeds to another comparison. " The
tyrant may be compared with a rich man in a city,
who has many slaves. A private man in such la
case is tranquil, because he knows that the whole
city is ready to help him against his slaves in case
of need. But if some God were to take a man
who has fifty or more slaves, away from the city,
and put him with his wife and children in a desert
place with his servants, in what a terror do you not
suppose he would be, lest he and his wife and
children should be destroyed by his servants ? He
would be obliged to coax some of his slaves and
promise them great things, and to give them their
freedom gratuitously ; in short, he would have to
cringe to them. And if the same God should
place all round him neighbours who maintain that
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 141
no man ought to lord it over another, and who
were prepared to inflict signal vengeance on any
one who did so, he would be still worse off. And
so he is, as it were, in a prison, overwhelmed
with fears and desires. He cannot get loose to
see any object of curiosity, and envies his subjects
who can travel at their pleasure. And so, you 6
see, he has all these special causes of being miserable,
in addition to his being merely a bad
man, Which you thought made him the most miserable
of men. "
The persevering and overwhelming way in
which Plato insists on the misery of the successful
tyrant, was perhaps pursued in consequence of
such characters, for instance Archelaus of Macedon,
being the stock examples of the Might makes
Right' school ; as we have seen in the Gorgias.
The special misery here insisted upon is that of a
tyrant surrounded by free states, like most of the
Greek states.
Socrates finally sums up.
" And so in reality, whatever may be the
seeming, the true tyrant is a true slave ;—a slave
condemned to the severest and basest of slavery,
the flatterer of the meanest of men. He is so far
from being able to gratify his desires, that he is in
reality poor and destitute of almost everything,
in the eyes of one who can look to the bottom of
his soul. He is full of terrors, struggles, and
writhings, throughout his life, if he be like the
tyrannized city ; and like it he is. And as we have
already said, sovereign power makes him necessarily
still more envious, perfidious, unjust, impious,
the receptacle and fostering place of all
wickedness ; wretched in himself, and the cause of
wretchedness in all who are near him."
The description of the tyrant, " stript of his
142 THE REPUBLIC.
tragic pomp" and found to be at bottom vile and
miserable, is the origin of the " purple tyrants,"
who "fear" and " groan" in the poets of ancient
Rome and of modern Europe. Tacitus is obviously
referring to this passage, when (Annals, vi. 6) on
the occasion of Tiberius's celebrated letter to the
Senate, he says : " Not without reason does the
great philosopher declare, that if the souls of
tyrants could be thrown open to view, they would
be found marked with gashes and bruises caused
by their own cruelty, lust, and iniquity, as the
body is marked with the stripes of a scourge."
The Dialogue now approaches to its proper
conclusion. In the fourth Book we had the picture
of an ideal polity and a corresponding human
character. In these eighth and ninth Books we
have the exhibition of other forms of polity, and
other characters. The polities were introduced at
the first in order to help the hearers to decide
which of the characters was the proper form of
human life, and whether the just or the unjust
man was, by the constitution of his own soul, the
happy man. The conclusion had already, at the
end of the fourth Book, been in favour of justice.
It is now expressed, not more distinctly perhaps,
but at any rate more formally and ceremoniously
than it was before. Socrates now speaks as if he
had been placing before his companion a series of
public spectacles ; of tragedies, for instance, or of
choric exhibitions, to receive the judgment of the
audience, which was best, as was the practice in
the spectacles at Athens. He puts this to Glaucon
thus :
" Now do you, acting the part of one who is to
judge a theatrical competition, determine who in
your judgment is first in happiness, who next ; and
what is the order of the whole five which I have
OF IMPERFECT POLITIES AND OF VICES. 143
presented to you ;—the Royal man, the Timocratic,
the Oligarchic, the Democratic, the Tyrannic."
Glaucon enters into the image at once, and responds
to the invitation. " I decide," says he,
" at once: I place the choruses in the order in which
they have come into the theatre. That is the
order which they occupy as to virtue, and as to
happiness or misery."
" Well then," Socrates says, still preserving the
allusion to the theatrical practice, " shall I engage
a herald to proclaim this judgment, or shall
I myself discharge the office?" And he then proceeds
to do so in formal terms : " Glaucon the son
of Aristo gives his judgment, that the best and
most just man is the most happy—the royal man,
who governs himself. And the worst and most unjust
is the most miserable—the man who has a
tyranny in his soul and is himself the tyrant of the
state.
" And," he asks, " may I add that this is so,
even if, being such, they are unseen by men and
gods ?"
" Add that too," says Glaucon.
And so the Dialogue, according to its original
scheme is, as I conceive, brought to a dose. The
Dialogue, in this form, might be called the First
Edition of the Polity. The remainder of the Ninth
and the Tenth Book are continuations, with certain
indications of being added at a later time,
as I shall endeavour to show in translating them.
The digressions which I have omitted, and which I
shall add hereafter, may also have been written
later than the main body of the Dialogue as I have
now given it : and at any rate, they leave its scheme
clearer by their removal.
144
REMARKS ON THE IMPERFECT POLITIES.
THE descriptions of the characteristics of the different imperfect
Polities, and the hypothetical histories of the Transitions
from one form of polity to another, are very curious ; but, as I
have said, they have rather the aspect of being suggested by
actual cases familiar to the writer, than of being fairly deduced
by systematic reasoning.
The difference between Plato's classification of Polities and that
of Aristotle is very remarkable. Aristotle says (Eth. Nic. VIII.
10), that there are three normal or regular kinds of polity :-
Monarchy, Aristocracy, and Timocracy ; and three abnormal or
irregular kinds, perversions of these ; namely, Tyranny, Oligarchy,
and Democracy. But the Timocracy of Aristotle is altogether
different from the Timocracy of Plato. The former is a
constitution in which all persons of a certain income (timema)
have a share in the government ;—a constitution founded on a
property qualification, like the parliamentary suffrage of the
English constitution. The Platonic Timocracy is, as we have
seen, that in which military honour (time) confers power ;—
the ascendancy of the military class. The Aristotelian polities
differ, according to the author, in this way ; that the true King
aims at the good of the people ; the Tyrant at his own advantage
only. And in like manner the Aristocracy becomes an
Oligarchy, when the governors assign the honours and emoluments
of the State to themselves exclusively. And a Timocracy,
a government by the men of some property, easily degenerates
into a Democracy, a government by mere numbers ; for a Timocracy
is already a government by numbers, only with a condition.
This second part of the Polity, (as we have divided it,) which
treats of Imperfect Polities, is closely connected with the first,
the Ideal Polity ; and might be supposed to have been published
at the same time: but against this supposition we have, (i) The
enormous intermediate Digressions, occupying Books v, vi,
and VII ; (2) The ancient story that a part of the Polity was ,
published before the rest : the natural division into two parts
REMARKS ON THE IMPERFECT POLITIES. 145
in that which we have given : (3) The Third Part of the Polity,
which. I have termed the Ethical Sequel to the Polity, is recognized
by Plato as a third part co-ordinate with the other
two (B. Ix. § 9) ; and as the Third Part appears to have been
written later than the others, (for reasons which I have given,)
we may also suppose that the Second Part was written after
the First.
The reader must give to these arguments such weight as
he thinks they deserve. At any rate there seems to be much
to lead to the belief that the different parts of the Republic,
including the Digressions, were published in the school of Plato
at different times, as the subject was further and further prosecuted.
Plato's picture of the freedom which the complete Democracy
allows each man, so that he may live in what way he pleases
(vim 12), represented a feature in the habits of Athens upon
which the Athenians looked with great complacency. It is one of
the topics of Pericles's praise of the City, in his Funeral Oration
(Thucyd. II. 37):—
" Thus liberally are our public affairs administered : thus
liberally too do we conduct ourselves as to mutual suspicions in
our private and every-day intercourse : not bearing animosity
towards our neighbour for following his own humour, nor darkening
our countenance with the scowl of censure, which pains
though it cannot punish."
Here, as the Scholiast observes, we have an allusion to the
moroseness and severity of Sparta, where there was required a
uniformity of manners and way of life ; and where every one who
deviated from this standard into any occasional gaiety was visited
with censure and punishment.
PLAT, III,
THE REPUBLIC.
PART IV.—SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF
THE POLITY.
(Republic, B. Ix. § 7, &c.)
HE portion of the Republic which I have given
1 as the original form of the Platonic Polity, contains,
I think, evidence in itself of its completeness
and unity. In that form all the parts cohere consistently,
and all tend to the conclusion, which in
its expressions professes itself to be a conclusion.
The Ninth Book, however, goes on with a further
prosecution of the ethical thesis, that Wisdom is
the supreme good for man. This part appears to
me to have been written at a subsequent time, on
this account ;—that the phraseology is here more
pointed, compact and systematic than in the preceding
part ; as if the language of the Platonic
ethics had now assumed a more fixed familiar character.
The three parts of the soul are now enumerated
and referred to as something which is
settled and generally recognized. Names are proposed
for them which may save periphrases. The
first, Desire, or rather the Desires, (for as Socrates
remarks, they are many and various,) is so called
after a leading one of the number, the Love of
SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF THE POLITY. 147
Money, the Love of Gain 1,—for money, besides
being a main object of Desire on its own account,
is desired as the instrument and representative of
other desires. The second, the Pugnacious or Irascible
Element, is to be called the Love of Victory
—the Love of Power'; the third, the Reasonable
Part of man, is to be denominated the Love of
Knowledge—the Love of Wisdom'. And there are
three kinds of man corresponding to these elements
of man ;—the ambitious, the avaricious, the philosophic
4 .
The proposed object of this part of the Book is
to give a second proof of the proposition, that the
just man is the most happy. Socrates says, proceeding
after the conclusion of the last Part :
" That is one proof; now here, if you wish for
it, is the second."
And then he expounds the ethical phraseology,
which I have just spoken of. And the proof which
he offers is of this nature. Each of the three kinds
of man,—the philosophic, the ambitious, the avaricious—
has his own aim, which he supposes to be
the supreme and only true source of pleasure. The
last cares for gain only; the second for victory,
the first for wisdom ; and each cares nothing for
the pleasures so highly valued by the others.
So far they are on an equality : but which of 8
the three is most likely to be right in his estimate
of true pleasure? Surely the lover of knowledge
—the philosophic man. For, in the first place, he
knows something of the pleasures of gain and of
victory from the experience of his youth ; while
the lover of gain or of power knows nothing of
the pleasures of wisdom. And again, the question
being what is a right judgment in such a case,
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148 THE REPUBLIC.
must be decided by knowledge, thought, reason.
Now knowledge, thought, reason, especially belong
to the philosophic man. The very organ by which
the judgment is to be formed belongs to him, and
not to either of the other two. His judgment
therefore must be the right one.
This is assented to : though it proves rather
Wisdom to be the supreme good than Rectitude
the supreme happiness, which was the proposition
in question. And then another proof is offered of
the same proposition, in this manner.
9 "And now after these two arguments there is a
third which gives us the threefold victory, grateful
to Olympian Jove. It is this.
" All pleasures except those of the reasonable
man are mere shadows of pleasure. Pleasure and
pain are opposites : and relief from pain is often
taken for pleasure. The cessation of pain is pleasure,
and the cessation of pleasure is pain. There
are some cases in which this is not so. Thus the
pleasure of sweet odours does not arise from any
preceding pain : but in general the bodily pleasures
are mere cessations of pain, and the expectation
and hope of such pleasures is only a presentiment
of this relief, and is in like manner a mere
comparative feeling.
10 " We may illustrate the matter in this way.
In a space you may have a top, a middle and a
bottom. If any one is carried from the bottom to
the middle he conceives that he is carried up ; and
when from the place at which he has arrived he
looks to the place from which he came, he thinks
he is at the top, though he has not really seen the
top : and this is because he does not truly know
what is top and middle and bottom. Now in ignorance
of this kind are men with respect to pains and
pleasures. When they move to the region of pain
SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF THE POLITY. 149
they feel pain, but when they move from pain to
indifference, they think it pleasure : like those
who seeing grey by the side of black, think it
white because they do not know what white is.
" Now hunger and thirst and other bodily pleasures
are certain vacuities of the body. And ignorance
and unreason are certain vacuities of the
mind. He who satisfies his hunger and he who
informs his mind are both filling vacuities. But
that must be more truly a filling, which fills the
vacuity with that which really exists. Now meat
and drink and victuals of all kind are not such
really existing things as truth and knowledge and
virtue. That which proceeds from an eternal, everconsistent
source, which is itself eternal and consistent,
and is manifested in such a form, must
more truly exist than that which proceeds from a
source ever varying and perishable, and which is
itself such, and is manifested in such. And knowledge
and truth are the concomitants of this real
and immutable kind of being. And thus the nutriment
for the body has less of truth and of real
being than the nutriment for the soul.
" And again : the soul more really exists than
the body. And that which more really exists, being
filled with things which more really exist, the filling
is more real than when that which less really
exists is filled with things which less really exist.
If then pleasure consists in being filled with that
which is congruous by nature, that which is really
filled with real existence, has very much more a
real and true pleasure in comparison with that
which, less participating in reality, is less truly and
really filled, and so has only an insecure and less
true pleasure.
" They then who have no share in wisdom and
virtue ; who spend their time in sensual enjoy-
150 THE REPUBLIC.
ments ; go to the bottom point, and then come up
to the middle point, and spend their lives in this
oscillation : they never rise higher, nor look to the
top ; they never tasted solid and pure pleasure.
They live like the beasts of the field, always looking
down on their pasture ; and sometimes goring
and kicking each other in quarrels about their food:
for they are insatiable, as never being filled with
realities."
" You speak," said he, " like an oracle about
the life of these people."
" They pursue pleasures mixed with pains,
mere shadows of true pleasure, set off only by the
neighbourhood of one another, so as to make them
seem lively and strong, and thus to drive men into
mad conflicts about them ; as the phantom of Helen
(according to Stesichorus) was what the people )
fought for at Troy, in their ignorance that it was
not the true Helen."
The story told by Stesichorus about Helen
was that when carried from her home by Paris she
really stopped in Egypt ; and that it was only a
phantom of her which was the subject of contention
at Troy. We have had Stesichorus's poem on
Helen already referred to in the Phaedrus, § 44.
This proof that the pleasures of wisdom and
virtue are the only true pleasures, drawn from the ,1
principle that truth more really exists than external
objects, and the soul than the body, will, I
fear, seem to the English reader rather ingenious
than convincing. I have done what I could to give
the meaning of the argument. It is further pursued
with reference to another class of pleasures,
those of the irascible or pugnacious element.
" Is not the like necessarily true of the irascible
element? When a man urged to rivalry by
ambition, or to violence by quarrelsomeness, or to
-4
SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF THE POLITY. 151
anger by impatience, seeks the gratification of his
passion, seeks a feast of honour or victory or rage
without reflection or reason ? And so our ambitious
and avaricious desires, if they allow themselves
to be guided by reason and knowledge in the pursuit
of their respective pleasures, will attain the
truest of the pleasures which belong to them. And
thus when the soul moves onwards in the path of
wisdom and virtue, no digression existing in it,
not only is good order preserved, but the truest
and purest pleasures are obtained."
After this there follows a curious numerical
comparison of the happiness of the good and the
bad man, or, in the language of the Platonic system,
of the royal and the tyrannic man. " Do you
know," said I, " by how much more miserably the
tyrant lives thna the true king ?"
" I shall know if you tell me," said he.
It is then explained thus. " The tyrannic man
is the third from the oligarchic man ; for there is
the democratic man between them. The oligarchic
man is the third from the royal or aristocratic man;
for there is the timocratic man between them.
And so the tyrannic man is removed from true
pleasure by a distance of three times three." Then
a reason, very obscure, as seems to me, is given
why the cube or third power of this number is to
be taken as the true measure; and thus it is proved
that the royal man is distant from the tyrant
seven-hundred-and-twenty-nine fold'. And if the
just surpasses the unjust in happiness so vastly, still
more does he surpass him in grace and beauty of
life.
We have then another image presented for the 12
purpose of illustrating the ethical doctrines which
have been propounded; and in this we have evi-
1 729 being the cube of 9.
. 1
152 THE REPUBLIC.
dente that the Platonic analysis of the soul into
Reason, Anger, and Desire, was now familiar, and
also the divisions of Desire into several Desires,
which has already been noticed in this argument.
Here Desire is represented as a many-headed monster.
" We must," says Socrates, " make an image
of the Soul. And in the first place an image like
Chimera, or Scylla, or Cerberus, many different
shapes grown together. Mould in your thoughts
a many-headed monster, with heads of tame beasts
and wild beasts all clustered together."
" Well," says Glaucon, " this is wonderful
image-making, but thought is more plastic than
wax : so it is done."
" Mould also a figure of a lion, and a figure of
a man, and make the man the smaller of the two.
And now put all these three into the single figure
of a man, as into a case : and so this man has his
springs of action within.
" If any one says that it is profitable to this
man to do injustice, he says neither more nor less
than that it is profitable to him to pamper the
many-headed beast within him, and to feed the lion,
so as to make those two strong and fierce, while
he starves the internal man, and leaves him to be
dragged this way and that by the brutes. He
who says justice is profitable, says that it is best
to encourage and strengthen the internal man, to
make him the master of the many-headed brute,
guiding the tame heads and crushing the wild
ones, and getting the lion to help him, and so
keeping all in good order. And so he who praises
injustice talks altogether falsely, ignorantly and
irrationally.
" And so we may use this image to persuade
him and set him right; for he does not mean to do
wrong. My dear Sir, we shall say, do you not see
•
SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF THE POLITY. 153
that what is fair and good in human actions arises
from keeping the wild beast in subjection to the
man—rather, to God ; and that vile and foul actions
arise from putting the tame parts under the
wild parts? If a man could get money by making
his son or his daughter a slave of bad and cruel
men, he would not take it, however great the sum.
If, then, he make the best and most divine part of
himself a slave to the vilest and most brutish, and
be not withheld by any compunction from doing
this, is he not a wretched creature? Does he not
get his gain at a far heavier cost than Eriphyle?"
(who betrayed her husband to certain death for a
collar of gold'.)
We have, then, views of various vices, such
as the image suggests.
"And so we see that all incontinence is wrong,
for it is giving way to that horrid, many-headed
brute. All arrogance and irritability is wrong, for
it is giving way to the lion. All luxuriousness
and effeminacy is wrong, for in it the lion has lost
all vigour and spirit. All flattery and meanness
is wrong, for in it the lion is subjugated to the
many-headed brute ; the lion is spoilt by the love
of money, and becomes a monkey. And to give
one's self up to handicraft and trade incurs reproach
because it implies that the best part of the man,
his reason, is too weak to rule over the brute part,
and is reduced to serve and minister to it.
" If then we desire that men should have a
master similar to the master who rules the good
man, we must say that they are to be ruled by the
man who is good, and has within him a divine ruling
1 Eriphyle was the wife of Amphiaraus the seer. He had foreseen
that if he went to the siege of Troy he would perish there,
and had hidden himself to avoid his fate. His wife revealed his
hiding-place for the bribe mentioned.
154 THE REPUBLIC.
principle : and that for men to be so ruled is not
their loss ; as Thrasymachus says, to be ruled always
is. It is always most profitable for men to
be ruled by a power divine and wise ; if possible,
by such a power dwelling within ; but if not, at
least by such a power governing them from without
; that all of us may be to the extent of our
power, like to and friends with that governing
power.
" And the mode of educating children shows
that this view is generally accepted. We do not
give them full liberty, till we have established a
kind of polity in their souls ; developing what is
best in them by what is best in us, and establishing
it as a guardian and master of their soul; and
then we leave them free.
" How then can we pretend, Glaucon, that it
is advantageous to a man to be guilty of any vice ?
or if he is guilty, to escape punishment ? He who
escapes punishment grows worse and worse. In
him who is chastised the wild-beast part is tamed,
the reasonable part is set free, and the soul, elevated
to its best state, acquires the healthy habits, of temperance,
and justice and wisdom ; and so is more
improved than the body is by health and beauty
and strength, in proportion as the soul is superior
to the body.
" This is the object which the reasonable man
will have in view, in every stage of his life. He
will seek such knowledge only as tends to this. In
the government of his body, lie will not seek
brutish and irrational pleasures ; he will not even
aim at health and strength and beauty, except so
far as those are to be enjoyed under self-control.
He will try to keep the parts of his body in harmony
for the sake of concord in his soul. He will
seek the same harmony in his possession and use 1'
SEQUEL TO THE ETHICS OF THE POLITY. 155
of wealth. He will not try to gather those heaps
of treasure which call out the admiration of the
many. Looking at the polity within him, he
will take care not to damage it either by too many
or too few external goods ; and by this measure he
will acquire and spend. And so with regard to
honours : he will accept and relish such as he
thinks may make him a better man. Those which
may disturb the balance of his soul he will shun,
be they public or private."
" If that be his rule," said Glaucon, "he will •
not meddle with politics."
" Oh by my troth," said I, " he will enter
deeply into the politics of his own polity : but
hardly into the politics of his country, unless some
wonderful change takes place."
" I understand. He will be a politician in that
City which we have been describing which exists
nowhere on earth."
" Well, but perhaps there is a pattern of it in
heaven, for those who look for it, and will regulate
their own constitution by it. But it makes no difference
whether this Polity exists now or ever shall
exist. The wise man will deal with it and no
other."
" Very likely," said he.
THE REPUBLIC.
PART V.—OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE
SOUL.
(Republic, B. x. § 9, &c.)
THE first portion of the tenth Book is occupied
with a justification of the exclusion of poets
from the Platonic State ; a subject already partly
discussed in a former Book. I shall give this portion
afterwards, as a Digression. The Dialogue
then goes on to the subject indicated in the above
title. After speaking of the dangers of the love
of poetry, and the necessity, on moral grounds, of '
resisting this inclination, so seductive in consequence
of the youthful recollections which it involves,
Socrates goes on :
9 " For it is a serious stake for which we have to
engage ; a very serious one indeed, my dear Glaucon,
and of a very different order from what men ;
generally imagine, when the question is, whether
one shall be a good man or a bad man ; a stake so
heavy, that we must not, from a love of reputation,
or riches, or power, or even poetry, neglect justice
and virtue."
" I agree with you," said he, " on the grounds
which have been stated ; and so, I think, will
everybody else."
" And yet," said I, " we have not hitherto
•
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 157
spoken of the greatest prizes which are provided
for virue."
" If there be any other, greater than those
which you have mentioned, they must be of inconceivable
magnitude."
" But what," said I, " can be really great which
lasts only a short time ? And how short is the
interval from boyhood to old age compared with
the whole extent of time 1"
" 0, it is nothing," said he.
" Well then: do you think that an immortal
being should employ its care on so short a time
instead of looking to the whole?"
" Certainly not," said he ; " but why do you
ask such a question ?"
" Do you not know," said I, " that our soul is
immortal and never dies ?"
And he looking me in the face with an air of
surprise said, " By Jove, I do not. Are you prepared
to prove that it is ?"
" Yes, if I am not mistaken ; and. I think that
you may prove it too ; for it is not hard."
" It is too hard for me ; but I would gladly
hear you do what you say is so easy."
" You shall hear," said I.
" Say on," said he.
The proof then proceeds : and in translating it,
I shall, in general, as I usually do in such cases,
suppress the responses.
" There are such things as Good and Bad.
What do we mean by them ? That which destroys
and spoils a thing is Bad : that which preserves
and improves it is Good. And each thing
has what is bad and good for it. The ophthalmia
is bad for the eyes '• every disease is bad for some
part of the body : the mildew is bad for corn ; the
rot is bad for wood ; rust is bad for brass and iron ;
158 THE REPUBLIC.
and, as I have said, everything has some special
thing which is bad for it. And when this bad thing
is in each case present, it spoils that on which it
fastens, and in the end dissolves and destroys it.
And thus each thing is destroyed by its own appropriate
evil and internal disease ; and if this does
not destroy it, nothing else can. For the Good
cannot destroy it ; neither can the Indifferent,
which is neither good nor bad.
" If then we find something which has belonging
to it a disease which spoils and corrupts it, but
which has not the power to destroy it, by dissolving
it, we shall know that that which is so constituted
cannot perish and come to an end.
" Now for the soul there are things which
make it bad and spoil it : such are the vices of
which we have been speaking, injustice, intemperance,
cowardice, ignorance. But does any of
these dissolve and destroy the soul ? And let us
take care not to make the mistake of supposing
that when the unjust man is condemned to death
for his wrong-doing, he is destroyed by his injustice
as being a disease of the soul. Consider
the matter rather in this way. The disease which
is the natural vice of the body decomposes and
dissolves it—so that at last it is no longer a body ;
and all the other things are, by the presence of
their appropriate disorder, dissolved, so that they
cease to be. Now apply this to the soul. When
its diseases, injustice and the rest, are present,
do they make the soul pine away continually so
that they bring on death, and separate the soul
from the body ? By no means. And it is absurd
to suppose that the disease of another thing can
destroy it when its own does not. And now consider
that even with regard to the body, we do not
suppose that it can be destroyed directly by any
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 159
badness of the aliments which is proper to them ;
whether it be rottenness, mouldiness, or any other ;
but if their badness generate in the body its proper
disorder, we say that the body is destroyed by its
own disease, on occasion of them. We do not say
that the body, which is one thing, is destroyed by
the badness of the food, which is another thing,
except in so far as the food generates in the body
its native and appropriate disease.
" And by the same reasoning, unless the disease 10
of the body engenders disease in the soul, we cannot
suppose that the soul will be destroyed by the
disease of that other thing.
" Let us then hold firmly this doctrine, that
neither a fever, nor any other disorder, nor wounds,
not even if the body were to be cut in pieces, can
destroy the soul; let us hold this, until some one
can show that these sufferings of the body make the
soul unjust or unrighteous. We cannot allow any
one to say that either the soul or anything else is
destroyed by what happens to another substance,
without the intervention of its proper disorder."
" But no one can show," Glaucon answers;
" that the souls of those who die become more
unjust by death."
" If any one," said I, " in order to escape from
.assenting to the immortality of the soul, should
assert that death does make men more wicked and
unjust ; we should infer that injustice is a mortal
disease, and that those who take the disease die of
it, some sooner and some later. Whereas the fact
is, that they who die through their own injustice,
die by punishments inflicted by others."
" By Jove," said he, " injustice would not be
such a formidable thing to other people, if it were
death to him that had it ; for there would be an
end of the bad man. But I am afraid the contrary
160 THE REPUBLIC.
is the case ; and that it kills other people very
often ; while he that has it is very much alive and
very lively to boot. There are no symptoms of its
being a mortal disease."
" You say well," I replied. "And if the proper
disorder and internal evil of the soul cannot destroy
it, the disorder of another thing, which has
another office, cannot possibly do so."—" Not possibly,"
said he.
" But if a thing cannot be destroyed, either by
an evil of its own, or by an evil belonging to something
else, it cannot ever cease to be : and if it
always subsists, it must be immortal."
And thus we have one of Plato's proofs of the
immortality of the soul. He goes on to illustrate
it somewhat further. He observes that the soul
being immortal, the number of souls must always
be the same. None can be destroyed ; none can
come into being.
And further, the soul must be a simple substance.
It cannot be composed of several heterogeneous
elements. The composition must be perfect,
as we have seen that that of the soul is.
" And so the soul is immortal, as both this reasoning
and others show :—"
Referring probably to the reasonings in the
Phaedo, and in the Phaedrus. But he proceeds to
give a caution to his hearers.
" In regarding the soul as immortal, we must
contemplate it as it is in truth, not in the degraded
state into which it is brought by its union with
the body, as we now see it. We must look at it
with the eye of reason, as it really is, purified from
stain. Then it will be found more beautiful than
we have yet seen it, and will more clearly discern
the difference of right and wrong. We now speak
of it as it now appears. But it presents itself to
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 161
us like the figure of the Marine God Glaucus ;
whose original human shape having been long
tossed about in the waves, has bits broken off it,
and is battered and disfigured, and moreover has
got things growing to it ; shells and sea-weed and
bits of rock, so that it is like anything rather than
its original form. So we see the soul disfigured by
a thousand accidents. But what must we look at
to see its real nature ? At its love of Truth ? We
must see what views it aspires to, what trains of
discourse it delights in, as showing its connexion
with the divine, the immortal, the eternal. We
must consider what it would be if it entirely followed
these impulses, and were by such a movement
raised out of the sea-waves in which it is
now immersed, and were cleansed from the stones
and shells which, from its connexion with the earth,
cling to it and make it earthy and stony, the results
of the nutriment which is taken in and which
some persons think so delightful. By considering
this, one would see its true nature, whether it is
simple or compound, what it is and to what it
tends. The passions and parts of the soul as it 11
appears in this its human life, we have, I trust,
sufficiently explained."
Socrates then goes on to discuss the general
subject, the advantages of virtue, in another way.
In the early part of the Dialogue it had been
taken as a supposition by Adeimantus, that the
just man was oppressed by external calamity and
calumny ; and Socrates had accepted the challenge
to show that even then he was the happiest of
men. But this supposition is not true, and is now
retracted.
" We have," said I , " reduced the question to
its simplest form in other ways, and also in this ;
that we excluded the rewards and the reputation
PLAT. III.
162 THE REPUBLIC.
of justice, which you said that Hesiod and Homer
introduced arbitrarily ; and we found that justice
in the abstract was the best thing for the soul;
and that what is right is to be done, whether or
not we have the ring of Gyges, and even if we had
the helmet of Hades'. But now I think we may
be allowed to restore to justice and to virtue their
rewards, which they really receive both from men
and Gods, both during life and after death."—
This is assented to.
" Well then, you must give me back what
you borrowed of me in our discussion. I granted
to you that the unjust man might appear just, and
the just might appear unjust. For you thought,
that though this might not be so in fact, it must
be supposed for the sake of the reasoning, that
what he did was unknown to Gods and men ; in
order that justice in the abstract might be compared
with injustice. Or do you not recollect?"
" It would be very wrong in me," said he,
" not to recollect."
" Well, then ; now that we have settled that
point, I summon you in behalf of Justice to acknowledge
in what estimation she is held both by
Gods and men, that she may obtain the prizes of
this reputation, and may give them to her adherents
; it having been shown that she gives the
benefits of being just to those who really have a
claim to them."
"That is reasonable," said he.
" Well then • you must first give me back this
point ; that the Gods, at any rate, are not deceived
as to whether each man is just or unjust."
1 The helmet of Hades had the power of rendering the wearer
invisible. So Iliad, v.:
"Pallas to elude his sight,
The helmet fixed of Hades on her head."
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 163
" That we will give you back," said he.
" And, both being known to the Gods, the one
is loved, the other is hated by them."—" As we
said at first, this is agreed to."
" And will you not grant that he who is loved
by the Gods, will, so far as their gifts go, receive
nothing but good ; except such necessary
evil as some former sin may bring upon him."—
"Agreed."
" We must then believe of the just man, that
whether he be assailed by poverty or by sickness,
or any other seeming evil, it will all in the end
turn out for good, either during his life or after his
death. For he cannot be deserted by the Gods
who has earnestly striven to be a just man ; and
who by the cultivation of virtue has endeavoured
to become like God, so far as a man can."
"It is to be supposed," said he, "that he will not
be overlooked by him to whom he is like. And
the lot of the unjust man will be the contrary."
" And thus the prize of superiority falls to the
just man, so far as the Gods are concerned."
This argument more resembles the one which
Addison's Cato rests upon than any of those in the
Phaedo.
Here will I hold. If there's a God above us,
(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud
Through all her works,) he must delight in Virtue,
And that which he delights in must be happy.
But when? or where? this world was made for Caesar.
Socrates then goes on to the rewards of right
action which proceed from men.
" And( then as to what comes from man. Is
not the state of the case really this, if we are to
say the truth : Are not knaves and rascals like
those foot-racers who are successful in running out,
but not so successful in running in again ? They
M 2 •
164 THE REPUBLIC.
go off very fast at first, but they get laughed at in
the end, running with their ears down upon their
shoulders, and sent away lacking the prize. They
who are really good runners hold on well to the end,
and get the prize, the honour and the stake. And
is it not so commonly with regard to honest men?
At the end of every course of action, of every dealing
with others, and at the end of life, they maintain
their good repute, and receive the rewards
which men can give."—" Granted."
" Allow me then, now, to say of honest men
what you said about knaves. I say then that
honest men, when they come to ripe age, arrive
in their own community at all the dignities to
which they aspire. That they have their choice,
as to marriage parties, for themselves and their
children; and, in short, all that you said as to
the advantages which knaves have, I now say that
honest men have. And of the knaves, I say further,
that most of them, even if they are not found
out while they are young, are detected before they
reach the end of their career, and are laughed at ;
and when they grow old they are wretched, exposed
to insults from fellow-citizens and strangers,
liable to be beaten, and, to use again expressions
which you rightly thought were too strong, likely j
to be racked and branded. You may suppose that
I now say all that you then said : will you allow
me to do so ?"
" Certainly," said he ; " for it is quite fair." 4111
And thus the proposed aim of the Dialogue is
completely reached, and the case so strongly stated
by Glaucon and Adeimantus is fully answered by
Socrates.
But still here, as in the Phaedon and in the
Gorgias
'
he thinks it well to support his reasoning
by the traditions which were current concern-
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 165
ing the destiny of men in a world after this ;
adorning these traditions with imagery borrowed
from his own speculations concerning various parts
of the universe. He proceeds :
" And these are the rewards, the prizes, the
gifts which the virtuous man receives from gods
and from men, in addition to those which virtue
itself bestows. And yet these are nothing either 12
as to number or magnitude in comparison with
those which await him after death. These too
you must hear, that the just and the unjust man
may each receive from our discussion that which
turns out to be due to them."
" Tell me of them," said he ; " there are few
things I would hear so willingly."
" Yes : and it is not a mythe, like the wondrous
tales of Alkinous, that I am going to relate, but the
relation of a brave man, namely Er the Armenian.
who was supposed to have been killed in battle
and revived after a twelve days' trance."
There is a quibble between Alkinou and alkimou,
brave, which I cannot render. The tale of
Alkinous was a proverbial expression for marvellous
stories, borrowed perhaps from the circumstance
that Odysseus in the Odyssee, tells to Alkinous and
his attendants his marvellous stories about the
Lotophagi, the Lstrigones, and the like.
The testimony of Er was to the effect that
he had been admitted to witness the distribution
of rewards and punishments to the souls of the
Departed, and had been allowed to return to
earth to tell the story. The general scheme of
retribution is of the same kind as that which
Socrates presents to his hearers at the end of the
Phaedo and at the end of the Gorgias, but with
considerable differences in the circumstances and
scenery. In this case the judgment is held in a
166 THE REPUBLIC.
wonderful place where there are two openings in
the earth below and two openings in the heaven
above. Those who are declared by the judges to
be good men are sent up through one of these
openings in the sky ; the bad are sent down by
one of the openings in the earth. But with this
scheme of retribution is joined a sort of transmigration
of souls. The souls of the wicked return
through the other aperture in the earth, and the
souls of the just through the other aperture in the
sky; those, after a period of suffering, proportioned
to their crimes ; these, after a like period of reward.
And this period is ten times the full time
of human life, namely a thousand years. But all
were not allowed to run this round. The narrator
had heard a soul ask about the great Ardiaeus, who
had been tyrant of a city of Pamphylia a thousand
13 years before ; and it appeared that in consequence
of the enormity of his crimes he was not allowed to
reascend from the nether abyss, but was detained
there by fiery forms with hideous howlings. 1
The souls which had returned after their long
circuit above or below were assembled in the judgment
place; which place seems to be intended for the
centre of the universe, and is described with curious
but perplexing reference to the system of the
structure of the universe which Plato had adopted.
The souls after four days' travel arrive at a place
where they can see above them a straight beam of
light like a column reaching through the whole of 1
the earth and the heaven, brighter than the rainbow
; and to the middle of this column of light the
ends of the frame-work of the heavens are joined;
for this column of light is the bond of the structure
of the heavens, surrounding it and holding it together,
like the girders of our ships.
Most interpreters of Plato regard this column
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 167
of light as the milky way, an interpretation which
throws everything into confusion. I conceive,
with Dr Donaldson', that the column of light is
the axis of the world : the frame-work of the heaven
consists of planks, as we may call them, which
go from pole to pole, like the planks of a boat, and
are held together by the axis ; as it appears that
the planks of a boat were by a rope girding the
two sides together.
This indication of the centre of the universe is
further elaborated by connecting it with the motions
of the planets, though in an obscure manner.
The Greek mathematicians of Plato's time had
discovered that the apparent motions of the planets
might be explained in a general way by supposing
a set of concentric circles, the inner ones turning
within the outer ones, each within each, like a
nest of concentric circular boxes. Each of these
circles was supposed to carry with it in its revolution
one of the planets ; and thus the different velocities
with which the planets move in the heavens
were accounted for. And that place which was
the centre of the universe for the purposes of divine
justice, might be supposed, as it is here supposed,
to be the place where the structure of the universe
is most clearly manifest. The motion of these
circles thus producing the celestial motion, is the
revolution of the spindle of Necessity ; Necessity
being supposed to spin perpetually the necessary
order of things ; and the spindle which spinners
use, a wheel turning on an axis, being the most
familiar image which could be taken of concentric
circulai disks turning round an axle. The way
in which the system is framed is, that eight such
1 Comb. Phil. Trans. Vol. x. I.
2 As Dr Donaldson has remarked, some English translators
have confounded the spindle with the distaff.
168 THE REPUBLIC.
disks or rings are fitted together ; their respective
velocities, their colours, are described ; though
these circumstances have of course no bearing
upon the ethical purpose of the mythe.
Moreover with each of the rings moves round a
Siren, each Siren uttering a single note, and the
eight notes together produce a harmony. This
" music of the spheres" was a notion very familiar
to the ancients ; and arose probably from this : the
Pythagorean school had discovered that musical
relations depended upon numerical ratios : the Platonic
school held that similar relations governed
the motions of the heavenly bodies '• and hence the
heavenly motions were supposed to be accompanied
by a music, though too sublime to be heard by
ordinary human ears.
Around the place where Necessity sits, with
her spindle on her knees, her three daughters, the
Fates, sit on three thrones, white-robed and crowned,
Lachesis and Klotho and Atropos ; who, accompanied
by the harmony of the Sirens, sing, Lachesis
past events, Klotho, present, and Aotpros, future.
Klotho with her right hand touches from time to
time and turns the outer circumference of the spindle,
while Atropos with her left hand turns the
inner rings ; and Lachesis with each hand touches
each.
This implies that the outer circles move from
left to right (the diurnal motion of the heavens) ;
the inner circles from right to left with several
separate motions (the proper motions of the planets).
The ethical purpose of the mythe is then re-
14 sumed, and followed out, as I have said, by a
doctrine of transmigration of souls. A proclamation
is made to the souls which have performed
their cycle, that a second life is before them. A
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 169
hierophant ranges them in order before Lachesis
and takes from her lap the lots which are to determine
their future career, with this proclamation
from a lofty pulpit.
" The proclamation of Lachesis, the virgin,
daughter of Necessity. Transitory Souls ! you
are about to begin a new period of mortal life: and
you shall not be chosen for by your attendant genius,
you yourselves shall choose him. He who
takes the first lot shall take the first life, and by
his choice he shall abide. Virtue has no master.
He who honours her shall have her more ; he who
dishonours her, shall have her less. The chooser
is responsible. God is free from blame.'
" And with these words the lots were thrown
among the crowd, and each obtained his number ;
and then the hieroph ant strewed on the ground
the various kinds of lives, and each chose one in his
order.
" There were in this collection lives of all kinds
—sovereign power, beauty, strength, valour; nobility;
wealth and poverty; health and sickness ; and
intermediate conditions. And, 0 my dear Glaucon,
here is a great trial for man ; and we see how
important it is that each man should disregard
other studies, and study this point ; how we may
learn to be strong and wise in this task—how we
may know a good life from a bad one ; and always
choose the best that is in our reach : taking into
account all that we have been saying as to the
value of life. We must know what beauty with
poverty or with wealth, what high birth or low
birth, what public life or private life, what strength
and weakness, what bright talents or poor talents,
what gifts natural or acquired, can do for us : so
that we may, taking all these things into account,
choose between a good and a bad life : meaning by
170 THE REPUBLIC.
good that which will make the soul more virtuous,
by bad, that which will make it more vicious; and
disregarding all besides. For we have seen that
this is the best course which we can take either
for this life or for the next. And we ought to
hold to this opinion to the death, firm as if fastened
by bands of adamant ; and not give it up even in
Hades for any temptation of place or power or
wealth : so that we may not choose a splendid
but guilty condition ; but rather a condition of
mediocrity, avoiding extremes in this life, and in
every life which may succeed it : for so is man
most happy."
The narrative is then resumed of the proceedings
which take place in the " Choice of Lives,"
by the souls. " The first who had to choose chose
a tyranny, that is, the sovereign power in his state,
and soon discovered his mistake, and regretted and
lamented it in vain. And yet this soul came by the
heavenly opening, but had probably done good
rather by force of habit than by true philosophy.
And indeed there were many of those who came
from heaven who made the like mistakes, as not
being disciplined by suffering. While most of
those who came from the earth, as having suffered
and seen others suffer, did not choose in haste.
And thus those who give themselves to philosophy
in their earthly life, may not only have a happy
life here, but also would probably have a happy
and easy passage by the heavenly gate, instead of
that rough subterranean passage.
" But the Choice of Lives was wonderful to see ;
lamentable and laughable, as the Armenian said ;
each soul choosing under the influence of its former
life. The soul which had belonged to Orpheus
chose a swan, through hatred of the female sex;
Thamyrus chose a nightingale; a swan chose a hu-
,
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 171
man life, and other musical animals did the same.
One soul, when its turn came, chose the life of a
lion : this was Ajax Telamonius, wrathful on account
of the assignment of the arms of Achilles to
Ulysses. Agamemnon's soul, hating the griefs of
human life, chose an eagle's life. The soul of
Atalanta, ambitious of the athlete's honours, chose
such a life. The soul of Epeius, the son of Panopeus,
(the artist of the Trojan horse,) became a
workwoman. The soul of the buffoon, Thersites,
entered into an ape. By chance the soul of Odysseus
had the last choice, and after long search,
he, cured by his long toils of all ambition, took the
quiet life of a common man, which he had found
lying in an obscure corner, and which all the other
souls had passed over. And when he had considered
this life deliberately, he said that if he had
,had the first choice, he would not have done otherwise.
" Lachesis then assigned to each his guardian
genius ; Klotho fixed the destiny by a turn of the
spindle, and Atropos tied it in a knot, and the
Soul and the Genius passed before the throne of
Necessity, and then there was no returning.
" As soon as all have passed, they move into the
plain of Lethe (Forgetfulness), and drink of the
river Ameles (Carelessness), whose waters no vessel
can contain ; and as they dnrki each soul loses all
memory of the past.
" After this, they fell asleep. And towards the
middle of the night, there was a clap of thunder,
and an earthquake : and all the persons were scattered
in all directions, like shooting-stars, so as to
be carried to the place where each was to have its
earthly birth. He himself, Er said, was prevented
from diinking the waters, and yet he knew not
how he returned to the body ; but in the morning,
172 THE REPUBLIC.
opening his eyes suddenly, he found himself lying
upon the funereal pile.
" This mythe, 0 Glaucon, has been preserved
from oblivion ; and it may preserve us, if we believe
it, from our loss. We shall then pass the
river in the plain of Lethe happily, and keep our
minds pure from stain.
" And, my friends, if you will believe me, we,
acting on the conviction that the Soul is immortal,
and that it is by its nature capable of the greatest
happiness and the greatest misery, shall always
keep our thoughts fixed on that upward way ; we
shall pursue virtue and wisdom with all the powers
of our minds, that we may be at peace with ourselves
and with the Gods ; and that both while we
remain here, and when we go to receive our reward
elsewhere, we may be received as victorious combatants,
and may be triumphant both here and in
that progress of a thousand years of which we
have spoken."
The cosmical part of this mythe is certainly
from Pythagorean and Platonic sources ; but the
doctrine of the metempsychosis is probably of oriental
origin ; and, as Dr Donaldson remarks, the tale
itself was borrowed from an oriental tradition. He
conceives Er, the Pamphilian, to be Zoroaster.
He quotes Clement of Alexandria (Strom. V. p.710),
who says : " Plato has mentioned, in the tenth
Book of his Republic, a certain Er, the son of Armenius,
by race a Pamphylian, who is Zoroaster.
At all events Zoroaster himself says Thus wrote
Zoroaster, the son of Armenius, by race a Pamphylian
; having fallen in battle and gone to Hades,
I learned these things from the gods. " And this
passage is repeated by Eusebius (Praef. Evangel.
xiii. 13). And Dr Donaldson gives good reasons
for believing this tradition to be true.
OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 173
Dr Donaldson conceives that the threads which
Lachesis spins with her ever-whirling spindle, are
threads derived from the ethereal fire of which the
world's axis is composed ; and that the purpose of
this part of the Apologue is to show how, as the
result of Lachesis's spinning, the souls after a certain
period, return to bodily life, the soul of man
being a particle of the fire which holds together
the world.
THE REPUBLIC.
DIGRESSION I.
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY.
(Republic, B. II. 16, &c.)
WE have seen that in determining the character
of the Soldiers or Guards of Plato's
ideal state, the importance of their education was
declared. This subject is followed out at some
length in the original Dialogue; but in order to
bring more clearly into view the connexion of the
parts of Plato's scheme, I there omitted the portion
which refers to this subject. I shall now
insert the purport of it, which may be regarded
as a discourse on the subject of Greek education.
I shall here, as in other parts of the Dialogue,
and even more constantly, omit the responses
made by the other interlocutors ; and, in general,
give Socrates's declarations as a continued discourse.
The interruptions take from the clearness
of the exposition more than they add to the
vivacity.
16 " What then," asks Socrates, " is the education
to be ? Perhaps," he goes on, " we could
hardly find a better than that which the experience
of the past has already discovered ; which 1
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 175
consists in Gymnastic for the body and Music
for the mind. And we shall begin our course
of education with Music rather than with Gymnastic."
Music includes poetry, as well as what we
call Music ; and thus using the term, lie proceeds :
" Under the term Music we include narratives.
Of narratives there are two kinds, the true and
the false. Now we begin with children by telling
them fables ; and these, to speak generally, are
false, though they contain some truths. And we
employ such fables in the instruction of children
at a very early period.
" But in every work the beginning is the most 17
important part, especially in dealing with anything
young and tender; for that is the time when
any impression which we may desire to communicate
is most readily stamped and taken. Shall
we then permit our children without scruple to hear
any fables composed by any authors indifferently,
and so, to receive into their minds opinions generally
the reverse of those which, when they are
grown to manhood, we shall think that they ought
to entertain? Certainly not. Then our first duty
will be to exercise (in our State) a superintendence
over the authors of fables, selecting their
good productions and rejecting their bad. And
the selected fables we shall advise our nurses and
mothers to repeat to their children, that they may
thus mould their minds with the fables even more
than they shape their bodies with the hand.
" But we shall have to repudiate a large part
of those fables which are now in vogue ; and
especially of what I call the greater fables, the
stories which Hesiod and Homer and the other
poets tell us. They told, and tell, their stories
to men. But in these stories there is a fault
176 THE REPUBLIC.
which deserves the gravest condemnation ; namely,
when an author gives a bad representation of the
characters of gods and heroes. We must condemn
such a poet as we should condemn a painter
whose picture should bear no resemblance to the
objects which he tries to imitate.
" For instance, the poet Hesiod related an
ugly story when he told how Uranus acted', and
how Kronos had his revenge upon him. And
even if the deeds of Kronos and his son's treatment
of him were authentic facts, it would not
have been right to tell them without reserve to
young and thoughtless persons. They are offensive
stories, and must not be repeated in our city.
No ! we must not tell a youthful listener that he
will be doing nothing extraordinary if he commit
the foulest crimes ; nor if he chastise the crimes
of a father in the most unscrupulous manner ; but
will simply be doing what the first and greatest of
the gods have done before him.
" Nor yet is it proper to say in any case—what
is indeed untrue—that gods wage war against
gods, and intrigue and fight among themselves.
We are not to teach this, if the future guards of
our state are to deem it a most disgraceful thing
to quarrel among themselves. Far less ought we
to select as subjects for fiction and embroidery' the
battles of the giants, and numerous other feuds of
all kinds, in which gods and heroes fight against
their own kith and kin. If there be any possibility
of persuading them that to quarrel with one's fellow
is a sin of which no member of a state was
ever guilty, such rather ought to be the language
held to our children from the first, by men and
1 Hesiod, Theogony, 164. 450.
2 Embroidered representations of such parts of mythology
were exhibited at certain festivals at Athens.
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 177
women, and such is the strain in which our poets
must be compelled to write. Stories like the
chaining of Hera (Juno) by her son Hephaestus
(Vulcan), and the flinging of Hephaestus out of
heaven for trying to take his mother's part when
his father was beating her, and all other battles of
the gods which are to be found in Homer, must be
refused admittance into our state, whether they be
allegorical or not. For a child cannot discriminate
between what is allegory and what is not ;
and whatever at that age is adopted as matter
of belief, has a tendency to become fixed and
indelible ; and therefore we ought to esteem it of
the greatest importance that the fictions which
children first hear should be adapted as far as may
be to the promotion of virtue.
" If any one proceed to ask us what should be 18
these fictions and what these fables that convey
them, we should reply, that on the present occasion
we are not Poets but Founders of a State. And
Founders ought certainly to know the moulds
in which the Poets are to cast their fictions, and
the rules from which they must not deviate ; but
they are not bound to compose tales themselves.
" Now what should these moulds be in the
case of Theology? They may be described as follows.
It is right always to represent God as he
really is, whether the poet describe him in an epic
or a lyric or a dramatic poem. Now God is, beyond
all else, good in reality, and therefore so to be
represented. But nothing that is good is hurtful.
That which is good hurts not ; does no evil ; is
the cause of no evil. That which is good is beneficial
; is the cause of good. And therefore that
which is good is not the cause of all which is and
happens, but only of that which is as it should be.
God, inasmuch as he is good, cannot be the cause
PLAT. III.
178 THE REPUBLIC.
of all things, as the common doctrine represents
him to be. On the contrary, he is the author of
only a small part of human affairs ; of the larger
part he is not the author ; for our evil things far
outnumber our good things. The good things we
must ascribe to no other than God: while we
must seek elsewhere, and not in him, the causes
of evil things.'
The difficulties which arise in the philosophical
mind with regard to the origin of evil, and the
assumptions which are made in order to remove or
lessen them, must always be regarded with indulgence
at least. We cannot but look with
interest at Plato's jealousy lest the goodness of
God should be impugned, and his condemnation
of the poets on that account. He proceeds to exemplify
his criticisms.
" We must then express our disapprobation if
Homer, or any other poet, is guilty of such a foolish
blunder about the gods, as to tell us that (//.
xxi v. 660)
Fast by the threshold of Jove's courts are placed
Two casks, one stored with evil, one with good :'
and that he for whom the Thunderer mingles
both,
He leads a life chequer'd with good and ill.'
But as for the man to whom he gives the bitter
cup unmixt,
He walks
The blessed earth unblest, go where he may.'
19 " And if any one assert that the violation of
oaths and treaties by the act of Pandarus was
brought about by Athene and Zeus (IL II. 60) we
shall refuse our approbation. Nor can we allow
it to be said that the strife and trial of strength
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 179
between the Gods (17. xx.) was instigated by
Themis and Zeus. Nor again must we let our
young people know that, in the words of
Æschylus, [in a lost Tragedy,]
When to destruction God will plague a house,
He plants among the members guilt and sin.'
" But if a poet writes about the sufferings of
Niobe, as Æschylus does in the play from which
I have taken those lines ; or the calamities of the
house of Pelops, or the disasters of Troy, or any
similar occurrences ; either we must not allow him
to call them the work of a God, or if they are to
be so called, he must find out a theory to account
for them, such as we are now searching ; and must
say that what the God did was right and good,
and that the sufferers were chastened for their profit.
But we cannot allow the poet to say that a
God was the author of a punishment which made
the subjects of it miserable. Now if he say that
because the wicked are miserable these men needed
correction, and the infliction of it by the God
was a benefit to them, we shall make no objection:
but as to asserting that God, who is good, becomes
the author of evil to any, we must do battle uncompromisingly
for the principle that fictions containing
such a doctrine as this, whether in verse
or in prose, shall neither be recited nor heard in
our City, by any member of it, young or old, if it
is to be a well-regulated city. Such language cannot
be used without irreverence ; it is both injurious
to us, and contradictory in itself.
" And thus one of our theological rules or
moulds, in accordance to which all must speak
and write, will be to this effect—that God is not
the author of all things, but only of such as are
good."
N 2
180 THE REPUBLIC.
This is very much like laying down fundamental
Articles of theological belief for the Ideal
City. He proceeds to another article of the same
kind. He inquires :
" Is God a wizard, so that he may appear for
special purposes in different forms at different
times ; sometimes actually assuming such forms
and altering his own person into a variety of
shapes, and sometimes deceiving us, and making
us believe that such a transformation has taken
place ? or are we to suppose that he is of a simple
essence, and that it is the most unlikely thing that
he should ever go out of his own proper form ? In
order to answer, we must consider this : If anything
passes out of its proper form, the change
must be produced either by itself or by some other
thing. Now changes and motions communicated
by anything else affect least the things that are
best. For instance, the animal body is changed by
meat and drink and exercise, and plants by sunshine
and wind, and similar influences ; but the
change is slightest in the plant or the body which
is healthiest and strongest. And so of the mind,
that is the bravest and wisest that is least disturbed
by any influences from without. The same principle
applies even to manufactured things, such as
furniture, houses and clothes : those that are wellmade
and in good condition, are least altered by
time and other influences. So that everything
which is good, either by nature or by art or by
both, is least liable to be changed by another thing.
20 " Now God and the things of God are in every
way most excellent. Therefore God will be most
unlikely to assume many shapes through external
influences.
" But will he change and alter himself? Clearly
he must, if he alters at all. Let us then consider.
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 181
Does he, by changing himself, attain to something
better and fairer, or to something worse and less
beautiful than himself? Necessarily something
worse, if he alters at all ; for we shall not, I presume,
affirm that there is any imperfection in the
beauty or goodness of God. And this being the
case, can we think that any God or man would
voluntarily make himself, in any respect, worse
than he is ? This is impossible. Therefore it is also
impossible for a God to be willing to change himself
; and therefore it follows that even God, inasmuch
as he is perfect to the utmost in beauty and
goodness, abides ever simply and without variation
in his own form."
This being established is applied in condemnation
of passages of the poets.
" Then let no poet tell us that (Odyss. xvii.
582)
In similitude of strangers oft
The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,
Repair to populous cities.'
And let no one slander Proteus and Thetis, or
introduce, in tragedies or any other poems, Hera
transformed in the guise of a princess, collecting
[in a lost play of Æschylus,]
`Alms for the life-giving children of Inachus, river of Argos :'
Not to mention many other falsehoods which we
must interdict.
" And once more : let not our mothers be persuaded
by these poets into scaring their children
by injudicious stories ; telling them how certain
Gods go about by night in the likeness of strangers
from every land ; that they may not by the
same act defame the gods, and foster timidity in
their children.
" But let us consider the other supposition.
182 THE REPUBLIC.
Perhaps though the gods have no tendency to
change in themselves, they induce us, by deception
and magic, to believe that they appear in
various forms. Let us see whether this is likely.
Would a God consent to lie, either in word, or by
an act, such as that of putting a phantom before
our eyes? To lie with the highest part of himself
[the soul], and concerning the highest subjects
[good and evil], is what no one consents to do.
Every one fears, above all things, to harbour a lie
of that kind. To lie or to be the victim of a lie,
in the mind and concerning absolute realities [right
and wrong], is the last thing that any one would
consent to do. All men hold in especial abhorrence
such a kind of untruth.
" Now this is what might more correctly be 3
called a real lie, namely, a false persuasion residing
in the mind of the deluded person.
" The spoken lie is a kind of embodiment and
imitation of the anterior mental error, not an original
falsity. And thus a real lie is hated not only
by the gods but by men.
21 " Once more : when and to whom is the verbal
falsehood useful, and therefore tolerable? Is it
not when we are dealing with an enemy ? Or
when those that are called our friends attempt to
do something mischievous in a fit of lunacy or
madness of any kind; then a lie may be useful,
like a medicine, to move them from their purpose.
And so in the legendary tales of which we were '
just now telling, it is our ignorance of the true
history of ancient times which renders falsehood
useful to us, as the utmost attainable copy of the
truth.
" Now on which of those two grounds is lying
useful to God? Will he lie for the sake of getting
as near the truth as he can, because he knows not
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 183
the things of old? The supposition is absurd.
And thus there is no place in God for the falsehood
which the poets' legends involve.
" Will he then lie through fear of his enemies?
or because his friends are foolish or mad? No.
No fool or madman is a friend of the gods. And
thus there is no inducement for a god to lie : and
the nature of gods and godlike beings is in every
aspect incapable of falsehood.
" God then is a being of perfect simplicity and
truth, both in deed and in word ; and neither
changes in himself, nor imposes upon others, either
by apparitions, or by words, or by sending signs,
whether in dreams or in waking moments.
" And thus we have a second principle, in accordance
with which all speaking and writing
about the gods must be moulded : namely this :-
that the gods neither metamorphose themselves
like wizards, nor mislead us by falsehoods expressed
either in word or act.
"And thus while we commend much in Homer,
we shall refuse to commend the story of the dream
sent by Zeus to Agamemnon (IL ii.) as well as
that passage in Æschylus
'
[in a lost Drama,]
where Thetis says that Apollo, singing at her
marriage'
Dwelt on my happy motherhood,
The life from sickness free, and lengthen'd years.
Then all-inclusively he blest my lot,
Favour'd of heav'n, in strains that cheer'd my soul,
And I too fondly deem'd those lips divine,
Sacred to truth, fraught with prophetic skill ;
But he himself who sang, the marriage-guest
Himself who spake all this, 'twas even. he
That slew my son.'
1 I borrow this translation from Messrs. Davies and
Vaughan's translation of the Republic: to which I owe also
other obligations. I hope they will excuse this appropriation,
considering how different the plan of my translation is from
theirs, so that we are not rivals.
184 THE REPUBLIC.
" When a poet holds such language concerning
the Gods, we shall be angry with him and refuse
him a chorus ; (that is, the means of bringing his
play upon the stage.) Neither shall we allow our
teachers to use his writings for the instruction of
the young, if we would have our Guards grow up
to be as godlike and god-fearing, as far as it is
possible for men to be."
This is assented to by the listeners, and so the
Second Book ends.
B. in. In the Third Book the subject of the Ideal
§ 1. Education is still pursued.
" Concerning the Gods then," Socrates continues,
" such is the language to be held, and such
the language to be forbidden, in the hearing of all,
from childhood upwards, who are thereafter to honour
the gods and their parents and to value mutual
friendship.
" But further : if we intend our citizens to be
brave, we must add to this such lessons as are
likely to preserve them most effectually from being
afraid of death. For, can a man ever become brave
who is haunted by the fear of death ? And can we
imagine that a believer in Hades and its terrors
will be free from all fear of death, and in the day
of battle will prefer it to defeat and slavery? We 41
cannot.
" Then it appears that we must assume a control
over those who undertake to set forth these
fables, as well as the others. We must request
them not to give such repulsive representations of
the other world, but rather to speak well of it ; because
such language is neither true nor beneficial 1
to men who are intended to be warlike."
This being assented to, he proceeds to apply
it to various passages of the poets. " We shall 1
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 185
expunge," he says, "the following passage, and
all that are like it (yOsds. xi. 489, (594) 1) :
had rather live
The servile hind for hire, and eat the bread
Of some man scantily himself sustain'd,
Than sovereign empire hold o'er all the shades.'
And this, (Il. xx. 64, (82)) :
Should wide disclose
To mortal and immortal eyes his realm,
Terrible, squalid, to the gods themselves :
A dreaded spectacle.'
And (II. xxiii. 100, (127)), [Achilles says],
Ah, then, ye gods! there doubtless are below
The soul and semblance both, but empty forms.'
And (Odyss. x. 495, (602)), [of Tiresias],
To him alone of all the dead Hades' Queen
Gives still to prophecy, while others flit
Mere forms, the shadows of what once they were.'
And (IL xvi. 856, (1046)), [of Patroclus],
So saying, the shades of death him wrapt around,
Down into Hades from his limbs dismist, •
His spirit fled sorrowful, of youth's prime
And vigorous manhood suddenly bereft.'
And (Il. xxiii. 100, (124)), [the shade of Patroclus],
Shrill-clamouring and light
As smoke the spirit past into the earth.'
And (Odyss. xxiv. 6, (5)), [of the shades in
Hades],
He drove them gibbering down into the shades,
As when the bats within some hallowed cave
Flit squeaking all around, for if but one
Fall from the rock the rest all follow him.'
1 The second number is the number of the line in Cowper's
translation.
186 THE REPUBLIC.
" These verses, and all that are like them, we
shall entreat Homer and the other poets not to be
angry if we erase ; not because they are unpoetical,
or otherwise than agreeable to the ear of most men;
but because, in proportion as they are more poetical,
so much the less ought they to be recited in
the hearing of boys and men whom we require to
be freemen, fearing slavery more than death.
2 " Further : we must likewise cast away all
those terrible and alarming names which are introduced
in connection with such subjects, the Cocytuses
and Styxes, and Manes, and Internals, and
all such words, the mention of which makes men
shudder with fear. For some other purpose perhaps
they may be useful : but we are afraid for
our Guards, lest these terrors should render them
spiritless and effeminate. So we must discard
these expressions, and speak and write after an
opposite model.
" Again : we must also strike out the weepings
and wailings of renowned heroes. What we maintain
is, that a good man will not look upon death
as a dreadful thing for another good man, whose
friend he is, to undergo. Therefore he will not
lament over such a person as if some dreadful disaster
had befallen him.
" Moreover, we say this also, that such a man
contains within himself, in the highest degree,
whatever is necessary for a happy life ; and is distinguished
from the rest of the world by his peculiar
resources. It is therefore less dreadful to him
than to any one to lose a son or a brother, or
worldly wealth, or anything else of that kind.
He is less likely than any one to complain ; and
will rather bear it with all meekness, whenever any
such calamity has overtaken him.
" We shall therefore do well to strike out the
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 187
lamentations put into the mouths of famous men,
and make them over to women, and to women of
feeble character, and to the baser sort of men, in
order that those whom we profess to be training
up to be the Guards of their country may scorn to
act like such persons.
" Thus, we shall request Homer and the other
poets not to represent Achilles, the son of a Goddess,
as (//. xxiv. 10) tossing now on his side,
and now on his back, and now once more on his
face ; and then as rising and pacing in fury the
shore of the waste untameable ocean :' nor yet as
(//. xviii. 23) taking in both hands black burnt-.
out ashes and pouring them over his head ;' nor as
indulging in all that weeping and wailing which
Homer has attributed to him : nor to describe
Priam, whose near ancestor was a god, as making
supplication, and (//. xxii. 414, (477)),
' To all he kneel'd
In turn, and roll'd himself in dust, and each
By name solicited to give him way.'
And still more earnestly shall we be them, whatever
they do, not to represent the Gods as complaining
and saying (//. xviii. 54, (68)), [Thetis's
words],
Ah me, forlorn ! ah me, parent in vain
Of an illustrious birth.'
Or, if they will not so far respect the Gods, at
least we shall entreat them not to presume to draw
so unlike a picture of the highest of the Gods, as
to make him say, (Ii. xxii. 168, (195)) :
‘Ah ! I behold a warrior dear to me
Around the walls of Ilium driv'n, and grieve
For Hector.'
And (17. xvI. 433, (526)) :
188 THE REPUBLIC.
Alas, he falls ! my most beloy'd of men,
Sarpedon, vanquisht by Patroclus, falls.'
3 For, if our young men were to listen sincerely to
such accounts, instead of laughing at them as unworthy
descriptions, it would be very unlikely that
any one of them should look upon himself, that is
but a man, as above such behaviour, and should
rebuke himself, if he were ever betrayed into it,
either in word or act ; (as he should do ;) nay,
rather, unchecked by shame or fortitude, he will,
on the slightest occasion, give himself up to groans
and tears ; which he ought not to do, as our reasonings
have shown.
" Again, our Guards ought not to be given to
laughter : for violent laughter produces a violent
agitation of the soul. If therefore a poet represent
even important men as overcome by laughter, our
approval must be withheld ; much more if Gods
are so described. We shall not allow Homer to
speak of the Gods thus (R. i. 599, (739)) :
Heav'n rang with laughter inextinguishable,
Peal after peal, such pleasure all conceived
At sight of Vulcan in his new employ.'
" But, again : a high value must be set also
upon truth. For if we were right in what we said
just now, and falsehood is really useless to the
gods, and only useful to man in the way of a medicine,
it is plain that such an agent must be kept
in the hands of physicians ; and that unprofessional
men must not meddle with it.
" To the Rulers of the State then, if to any, it
belongs of right to use falsehood, to deceive either
enemies or their own citizens for the good of the
State ; and no one else may meddle with this privilege.
For a private person to tell a lie to our
magistrates we shall maintain to be as great a mis-
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 189
take as for a patient to deceive his physician, or a
pupil his training-master, concerning the state of
his own body, or for a sailor to tell an untruth to
the pilot concerning the ship and the crew. If;
then, the authorities find any one else in the city
guilty of lying (Odyss. xvii. 353),
Any of those that are craftsmen,
Prophet and seer, or healer of hurts, or worker in timber ;'
they will punish him for introducing a practice
as pernicious and subversive in a State as in a
ship.
" Once more : our young men must be sober,
temperate, modest. Now sobriety, as generally
understood, implies the following principal elements
: obedience to governors, and temperance in
bodily pleasures.
" We shall approve then of 'such language as
Homer puts in the mouth of Diomedes (R. iv. 412):
`Friend, sit down in silence, and give good heed to my sayings.'
And of the lines that follow :
'Wrath breathing, marcht the Achaians,
Silently dreading their captains.'
And everything of the same kind.
But we cannot approve such language as this
(ii. 1. 225, (275)) :
0, charged with wine, in steadfastness of face,
Dog unabasht, and yet at heart a deer ;'
and of what follows, and all the other insolent expressions,
which in prose or in poetry are put in
the mouths of inferiors towards those in authority.
For these do not tend to promote modesty in
youth.
" So when the wisest of men is represented as 4
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190 THE REPUBLIC.
saying that what appears to him the finest sight
in the world is (Odyss. ix. 8, (9)) [Odysseus, of
the Phaeacianss],
The steaming tables spread
With plenteous viands, while the cups with wine
From brimming beakers fill'd, pass brisk around.'
Do you think that being told this will aid a young
man in acquiring self-control ? Or this (Odyss.
xii. 342, (489)) :
But death by famine is a fate of all
Most to be fear'd' ?
" Or what do you think of representing Zeus
as forgetting, in the eagerness of his desire, all
that he had been meditating, and so smitten at the
sight of Hera, that he would not even defer the
gratification of his passion till they should enter
into their chamber? And what say you to the 1
story how Ares and Aphrodite were bound in
fetters by Hephestus in consequence of a similar
proceeding ? Surely such stories are very improper
to be told.
" But acts of fortitude under all trials in deed
and word ascribed to renowned men are things
that we willingly contemplate and listen to ; as
when Odysseus (Odys. vii'. 26)
Smote firm his breast, repressed his swelling heart:
Bear this, my heart, thou halt borne worse than this.'
" Further, we must not permit our men to be
receivers of bribes or lovers of money. Therefore
we must not sing to them that (as Hesiod says),
Gods are persuaded by gifts, by gifts dread kings are persuaded.'
" Nor must we praise Phcenix, the tutor of
Achilles, or allow that he spoke wisely when he
•
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 191
advised him (II. xxii. 15) to aid the Achaeans if
he received presents from them, but without presents,
not to dismiss his anger. And we shall not
believe that Achilles himself was so avaricious as
to take gifts from Agamemnon ; and at another
time to give up a dead body, only on condition of
receiving a price for it.
" It is only my regard to Homer that makes
me stop short of asserting that it is a positive sin
to say these things of Achilles. Nor, again, can I
believe that he said to Apollo (II. xxii. 15, (17)),
Of all the Powers above,
To me most adverse, Archer of the skies,
Thou hast beguiled me, leading unawares-
Ah ! had I power, I would requite thee well.'
•
Nor that he was so rebellious to the voice of
the river Xanthus, who was a god, as to be ready
to fight with him (II. xxi. 130). Nor that he said
of the other river, Spercheius, to whom his hair
had been consecrated, that he would nevertheless
give it to Patroclus at his funeral (ii. xxiii.
151, (190)) :
The hero these (ringlets)
Patroclus takes down with him to the shades ;'
and that he fulfilled his purpose.
" And, again, all the stories (II. xxii. 394 and
xxiii. 175) of his dragging Hector round the
tomb of Patroclus, and of his immolation of the
captives on the funeral pile, we shall unhesitatingly
declare untrue. We shall not allow our young men
to be persuaded that Achilles, the son of a goddess
and of Peleus, who was a most discreet prince ;
third in descent from Zeus, and pupil of Cheiron,
that wisest of teachers, had yet so ill regulated a
soul as to unite two opposite vices, mean covetousness
and arrogant contempt of gods and men.
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192 THE REPUBLIC.
5 " Nor, once more, will we believe, or allow it
to be said, that Theseus the son of Poseidon, and
Peirithous the son of Zeus, went forth to commit
such a shocking rape as is ascribed to them ; nor
that any other god-sprung hero could have dared
to commit such impieties as are falsely told of them.
We must oblige our poets to admit, either that the
deeds in question were not their deeds, or else that
they were not the children of the gods. They
must beware of combining the two assertions, and
of attempting to make our young men believe that
Gods are parents of evil, and that heroes are no
better than common men.
" These doctrines are at once irreverent and
untrue ; for we have proved, I believe, that evils
cannot originate with the gods. And besides, such
language is pernicious to the hearers ; for every
one will be indulgent to vice in himself, if he is
convinced that such were and still are the practice
of those who are
Kinsfolk of gods, not far from Zeus himself,
Whose is the altar of ancestral Zeus
Upon the hill of Ida, in the sky,
And still within their veins flows blood divine.'
[From the Niobe of Æschylus.]
On these accounts we must suppress such fables
lest they engender in our young men an aptitude
for wickedness.
" We have now stated what rules must be observed
in speaking of the gods, and demi-gods,
and heroes, and the souls of the departed. We
shall next consider how men are to be spoken of.
Now both poets and prose-writers speak of men
as if many are happy though unjust, and many
just, yet miserable ; and that injustice is profitable
if it be not found out, and that justice is a gain to
your neighbour but a loss to yourself. We should
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 193
be disposed to forbid the use of such language, and •
lay our commands on all writers to express the
very opposite sentiments in their songs and their
legends. But if you allow us to reject such expressions
as false, you allow the very proposition to
which the whole of our discussion tends. So to
avoid begging the question, we must defer our
rules on this subject till we have discovered the
real nature of justice, and prove that it is essentially
profitable to its possessor, whether he have
the name of being just or not.
" And here ends our discussion of the subject- 6
matter of narratives : our next task is to consider
what must be their form. This done, we shall
have considered both what ought to be said, and
the mode of saying it.
" To understand this let us consider that all
the compositions of poets and mythologers may be
described as narratives of past, present, or future
events. And the author attains his object either
by narrative simple, or by narrative imitative, or
by a mixture of both.
" I will take an instance. In the beginning
of the Iliad, the poet tells us that Chryses besought
Agamemnon to release his daughter, and
that Agamemnon was angry with him: whereupon
Chryses, finding his suit denied, prayed to his god
to avenge him on the Achaeans. Down to the
lines (I7. I. 15, (19)),
`His application was at large to all
The host of Greece, but most of all to two,
The sons of Atreus, highest in command,'
the poet speaks in his own person, and does not
attempt to divert our thoughts into supposing that
the speaker is any other than himself. But in
what follows,
[`' Ye galant chiefs, and ye their galant host, &c.1
PLAT. I. 0
194 THE REPUBLIC.
he speaks in the person of Chryses, and endeavours,
so far as he can, to make us believe that it is not
Homer who is speaking, but the aged priest.
And in this mixed style he has constructed all the
rest of the narrative of the Trojan War, as well as
the events that took place in Ithaca, and the rest of
the Odyssee.
" It is equally narrative, whether the poet is
reciting the occasional speeches or describing the
intermediate events. But when he delivers a
speech in the character of another man, he aims at
the closest resemblance in style to the person introduced
as the speaker. Now to assume a resemblance
to another is imitation. And thus it appears
that in such a case Homer and other poets
carry on the narrative through the medium of
imitation [and we may call it narration imitative].
" To explain this further : if Homer, after saying
that Chryses came, bringing his daughter's
ransom, in the character of a suppliant to the
Achans, and above all to the kings—had continued
to speak, not as if he had become Chryses, but as if
he were Homer still, that would have been, not
imitation, but simple narration. The story would
have run in something like the following manner '
(I shall tell it in prose, for I am no poet) :
" The priest came anal prayed that the gods
might grant to the Greeks the capture of Troy,
and a safe return, if only they would release unto
him his daughter, accepting the ransom and reverencing
his god. And when he had thus spoken,
all the rest were moved with awe, and were willing
to consent ; but Agamemnon was wroth, and
charged him to depart, and come again no more,
lest the wand and the wreaths of the god should
avail him nought. Arid ere his daughter should
be set free, he said she should grow old with him
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 195
in Argos ; so he bade him begone, and avoid provoking
him, if he wished to reach home unhurt.
And the old man, when he heard it, was afraid, and
went away in silence ; but when he was clear of
the camp, he prayed much to Apollo, calling upon
the god by his titles, and putting him in remembrance,
and asking to be repaid, if ever he had
presented an acceptable offering to him in the
building of temples or the sacrifice of oblations ; in
consideration of which things he prayed that the
god would avenge his tears upon the Achaeans by
shooting his arrows at them.
" In this we have a simple narration without 7
imitation. The opposite result ensues when you
strike out the poet's own words that stand between
the speeches, leaving only the alternate dialogue.
You have then narration imitative, as in
Tragedies."
This elaborate distinction of narrative and dialogue,
or, as we sometimes say, indirect and direct
speeches, appears to show that criticism on such
subjects was a novelty. Socrates goes on :
" Thus one branch of poetry and mythology
consists wholly of imitation ; that is, Tragedy and
Comedy : another branch employs the simple recital
of the poet in his own person, and is chiefly
to be found in Dithyrambic poetry ; while a third
employs both recital and imitation, as is seen in
Epic poems and the like.
" And this being settled, then arises the question,
Shall we allow our poets, in telling their
story, to employ imitation exclusively or partially,
(and if so with what limits,) or not at all? that is,
whether we shall admit Tragedy and Comedy into
our city or not.
" And to decide this question, let us ask, Ought
our Guards to be apt imitators or not ? Does it not
02
196 THE REPUBLIC.
follow from what we said at first, that an individual
may pursue with success one calling, but not
many ; or, if he attempt many, by meddling with
all he will fail in all, so as to make no proficiency
in any ? Now the same principle applies to imitation.
The same person cannot imitate many
things as well as he can imitate one, and therefore
it is very improbable that one who has an important
calling of his own will at the same time
know how to imitate a variety of things, and do it
well. Even two branches of imitation closely
allied are more, I believe, than one person can succeed
in, for example writing comedy and writing
tragedy, nor can a man be a Rhapsode (recitor of
epic poetry') and an Actor. Nay, the same actor
cannot even play both Tragedy and Comedy. And
human nature appears to be split up into yet more
minute subdivisions than these ; so that a man
is unable to imitate many things well, or to do the
things well of which the imitations are likenesses.
8 " Since then our Guards are to be released from
every other business, that they may become very •
skilful in erecting and upholding their country's
freedom, and may follow no occupation but such as
tends to this result, it will not be desirable for them
either to practise or to imitate anything else. If
they do imitate, let them imitate from childhood
what is proper to their profession,—the qualities
of brave, sober, religious, honourable men, and the
like ; but meanness and every kind of baseness,
let them neither practise in reality, nor in imitation,
lest they be infected with the reality. For
imitations, whether of bodily gesture, tones of
voice, or modes of thought, persevered in from an
early age, are apt to become habits and a second
nature.
1 See the Ion.
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 197
" Therefore we shall not permit those whom we
wish to become good men to imitate a woman,
young or old, reviling a man, or vaunting against
the gods her own felicity : or taken up with misfortunes,
and griefs and complaints. Much more
shall we forbid them to imitate a woman who is
sick, or in love, or in labour.
" Nor must they be permitted to imitate slaves,
male or female, and their servile occupations.
" Nor bad men, as cowards ; nor men caricaturing
or abusing one another ; nor uttering ribaldry,
whether drunk or sober ; nor committing any of the
offences of which bad men are wont to be guilty.
It is right that they should know Mad and wicked
people ; but they ought not to act like them nor
give imitations of them.
" Nor may they imitate smiths, or any other
craftsmen working at their trade, or rowers pulling
at the oars in a galley, or the like ; for they are
not to be permitted to attend to any of these occupations.
" Nor shall they give imitations of horses
neighing, or bulls bellowing, or of roaring rivers
and sounding seas, and claps of thunder."
This elaborate proof that the citizens of the
ideal polity cannot be actors is carried into such
detail, that we must suppose it to refer to performances
which had really taken place on the Athenian
stage. He goes on to say, that a good man, in 9
speaking of bad men and bad deeds, will pass
rapidly over them. But, he continues
" The man who is not of this character, the
more contemptible he is, the more he will be inclined
to omit nothing in his narration, and to
think nothing too low for him ; so that he will
attempt, seriously and in the presence of many
hearers, to imitate everything without exception ;
198 THE REPUBLIC.
even the phenomena mentioned just now, claps of
thunder and the noise of wind and of hail, and of
wheels and pulleys, and the sounds of trumpets
and pipes and flutes and of all sorts of instruments;
nay, even the barking of dogs, the bleating
of sheep, and the notes of birds ; and his
performance will consist wholly of imitation by
voice and gesture, and there will be but a small
portion of narration."
We might almost suppose that Plato's indignation
had been roused by some splendid pantomime
full of imitative tricks and sounds, and
destitute of dramatic merit. Socrates goes on to
say, that the former kind, the Homeric mixture of
narration and speeches, requires few changes of
melody and rhythm : while the other requires all
the kinds of melodies and rhythms. The pure
and simple narrative of the good man is the
best type ; but the poets mingle and compound the
two.
" There is an attraction about the composite
type ; while by far the most attractive of all, to
children and servants, and the vulgar, is the splendid
and varied kind. But this is not in harmony
with the genius of our commonwealth ; because
with us there is no twofold and manifold man
since every one has one single occupation. A
shoemaker is a shoemaker, and not a pilot to boot;
the husbandman is a husbandman, and not a juryman
in addition ; and so on."
" If, then, a man should arrive in our city, so
clever as to be able to assume any character and
imitate any object, and should propose to make a
public display of his talents and his productions,
we should pay him all reverence as a sacred, admirable
and charming personage ; but we shall
tell him that in our State there is no one like him;
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 199
that our law excludes such characters, and we
shall send him away to another city, after pouring
perfumed oil upon his head, and crowning him
with garlands. But for ourselves, we shall employ,
for the sake of our real good, that more austere
and less fascinating poet and mythologer, who
will imitate for us the style of the virtuous man,
and will cast his narratives in those moulds which
we prescribed at the outset when we engaged in
the training of our soldiers."
" And now we have done with that branch of
Music which relates to poems and mythologies :
we have explained what is to be said and how it is
to be said.
" Our next subject is song and melody. We 10
must see what rules we must prescribe for these,
so as to be in conformity with our principles.
" It is obvious that a song consists of three
parts, the words, the melody, and the rhythm. As
to the words of a song, they must conform to the
rules already laid down for poetry in general; and
the melody and the rhythm ought to follow the
words.
" But we said that in the case of words we
must banish plaintive and wailing compositions.
Now what are the plaintive melodies ? The musicians
say, the mixed Lydian and the Hyperlydian,
and such like. These then must be discarded;
they are unfit even for virtuous women, much more
for men.
" Again, drunkenness, effeminacy and indolence,
are things unfit for our Guards. Now which
of the melodies are effeminate and convivial ? The
Ionian and the Lydian, which are called lax
modes.' These, therefore, we shall not employ in
the training of soldiers.
" We have only the Dorian and Phrygian left.
200 THE REPUBLIC.
I do not know the modes of melodies myself; but
we must have that kind of melody which will
represent the tones and accents of a brave man
engaged in a feat of arms, or in any strong exertion
; a man who, if he fails of success, or encounters
wounds or death, or any other calamity, in all
such events meets the blows of fortune with unflinching
endurance.
" We must also have another melody expressive
of the feelings of one engaged in an occupation
peaceful and unconstrained :—invoking the Gods,
advising, persuading, or counselling his equals, or
agreeing to the prayers, instructions, or counsels
of another ; free from arrogance, sage, moderate,
and content with his lot. We must have these
two kinds of melody ; the one spirited, the other
tranquil, to imitate the tones of a man temperate
and courageous in adversity and in prosperity."
The distinction of the Greek musical " modes,"
Dorian, Lydian, &c., may be conceived to be something
like the distinction of the major and minor
scales in modern music. Though the variety was
carried to a much greater extent, yet, like these
latter, they differed as more or less plaintive, more
or less spirited. That such differences are capable
of producing a wonderful effect upon the spirits
and feelings of men, especially of men acquainted
only with simple melodies, is well known. The
persuasion, here implied by Plato, that music
rightly chosen might sustain courage and inspire
fortitude, is adopted by Milton, in his striking description
of the host of rebel angels (Par. Lost,'
1. 550) :
"Anon they move
In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood
Of flutes and soft recorders ; such as raised
To highth of noblest temper heroes old
ON EDUCATION 1N THE IDEAL POLITY. 201
Arming to battel; and instead of rage,
Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat;
Nor wanting power to mitigate and 'suage
With solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chase
Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain,
From mortal or immortal minds."
Socrates then goes on to speak of musical instruments.
" It appears from what has been said that we
shall not require for our accompaniments instruments
of many strings, or fitted for all harmonies.
We shall not need harps or dulcimers. And the flute
is equivalent to an instrument of several strings,
and stringed instruments are merely imitations
of the flageolet. And therefore the flute and flageolet
are to be excluded. There remain the lyre
and guitar ; while in the country the herdsman
will have some sort of pipe. And we are guilty
of no innovation in preferring Apollo and Apollo's
instrument (the lyre) to Marsyas and his instrument
(the flute). And so we have purged our
city from musical luxuries.
" Let us finish our purgation. After Melody
comes Rhythm. Our rule must be that we must
not aim at a variety of rhythms, or use all rhythms
indiscriminately ; but we must observe what are
the natural rhythms of a well-regulated and manly
life. And when we have discovered these, we
must compel the foot and the music to suit themselves
to the sense of such a life, and not the sense
to suit itself to the foot and the music."
" What these rhythms must be, the musician
must tell us. He says there are three principal
kinds of movement : but which kinds of rhythm
express which kinds of life, I cannot say. Damon,
the musician, uses many technical terms on this
subject : he speaks of the Euoplian or March, and
202 THE REPUBLIC.
the dactylic or heroic measure : he speaks of up
and down, of long and short ; he calls one foot an
iambus, one a trochee. We must ask him what
movements mark meanness, what, insolence, what,
vice, what, madness, and what are left as expressive
of better qualities.
" But we at least can settle that grace coexists
with beauty of rhythm, and ungracefulness with
faulty rhythm. And good and bad rhythm naturally
flow from good and bad style; and so do
good and bad melody : that is, if rhythm and melody
suit themselves to the words, as they ought
to do.
" And so good style and good melody and
rhythm and grace all depend upon good nature.
I do not mean good nature in the sense in which
we use it as a gentler term for silliness, but a real
goodness of moral character. And this is the character
to which our young men must aspire in
order to perform their proper work."
" Also the same rules apply to the fine arts :
to painting, weaving, embroidery, architecture,
furniture-making. Examples may be seen too in
living bodies and in plants ; all these may be
graceful or ungraceful. And the want of grace,
rhythm and melody, are closely allied to bad style
and bad character : and the opposite qualities are
allied to a character well-constituted and wellregulated.
12 " Therefore we ought not to confine ourselves
to superintending our poets and compelling them
to impress on their productions the image of a
good character : we ought to extend our superintendence
to the professors of every other craft as
well ; and ought to forbid them to give us, in the
representation of living things, or in architecture,
or in any other work, anything contrary to good
1
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 203
manners, to modesty, to liberal thoughts. All
who cannot do this are to be interdicted working
in our city, that our Guards may not be reared
among degraded images, as a sort of pasture from
which they take something day by day, till their
souls become thoroughly vitiated. We ought, on
the contrary, to seek out artists of another stamp,
who by the force of genius can trace the form of
the fair and the graceful ; that our young men,
dwelling, as it were, in a healthful region, may
drink in good from every quarter ; the emanations
from noble works striking upon their eye or their
ear ; and like a gale wafting health from salubrious
lands, and winning them imperceptibly from
their earliest childhood into resemblance and love
and harmony with the true beauty of reason.
" On these accounts it is that we attach such
supreme importance to a musical education ; because
rhythm and harmony sink most deeply into
the recesses of the soul, and take most powerful
hold of it ; bringing grace in their train, so that
he who is well-nurtured is graceful, and he who is
not, is not. And on this account too : that he
who is well nurtured in music will have the
keenest eye for defects, whether in the failures of
art or in the misgrowths of nature. He, feeling a
repugnance for these, will select and commend
beautiful objects and gladly receive them into his
soul, and feed upon them, and grow to be noble
and good. He will blame and hate all repulsive
objects, even in his childhood, and before he is
able to be reasoned with. And when reason
comes, he will welcome her most cordially who can
recognize her by the instinct of relationship, because
he has been thus nurtured. Such are the
reasons for an education in Music.
"But we go further. In learning to read, we
204 THE REPUBLIC.
are not fully taught till we can be sure of recognizing
the small number of letters which there
are in all their combinations, never overlooking
any one. And we shall not know the images of
letters, reflected in still water or in a mirror, till
we know the letters themselves : for the knowledge
of the reflections belongs to the same art
and study as that of the originals. And how
then, in the name of heaven, can we become truly
musical, or make our Guards, whom we instruct,
truly musical, until we know the essential forms
of the virtues—Temperance, Courage, Liberality,
Magnanimity and the like, wherever they are to
be found : not overlooking any image of them in
things small or great, but supposing that a knowledge
of these belongs to the same art and study
as that of the originals ?
" Surely then to him who has an eye to see,
there can be no fairer spectacle than that of a
man who combines the possession of moral beauty
in his soul with outward beauty of form : the external
beauty corresponding and harmonizing with
the internal, because the same great Type or pattern
enters into both. Nothing can be so fair.
And what is most fair is most loveable. And
thus the truly musical person will love those who
combine most perfectly moral and physical beauty;
and will not love any one in whom there is a dissonance
: at any rate, not if there be any defect in
the soul. If it be only a bodily blemish he may
bear it, and even regard it with complacency."
Perhaps there is an allusion here to Socrates's
ugliness. He goes on to a point difficult to speak
of, but one on which it is fit that justice be rendered
to Socrates and Plato. After thus speaking
of love for a beautiful and virtuous object, he
says :
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 205
" It is the nature of legitimate love to desire
an orderly and beautiful object in a sober and
harmonious manner, and therefore nothing akin
to madness or licentiousness must approach legitimate
love. But the sensual pleasure which is
sometimes sought in love is closely allied both to
licentiousness and to madness. Therefore this
pleasure must not approach such love as we speak
of: nor must a lover and his beloved whose affections
are rightly given and returned have anything
to do with it.
" This then must be the rule in our city.
Though a lover may be attached to a favourite, and
frequent his society, and embrace him as a son ; yet
he shall so regulate his intercourse as never to
give occasion to suspicion that he extends his
familiarity beyond this. He who does so shall
be considered as a person of no education, and no
delicacy.
" And so our discourse concerning Music has
terminated where it ought to terminate. For the
end of Music is the love of the Beautiful."
We then go on to another subject. Socrates 13
says :
" Gymnastic will hold the next place to Music
in the education of our young men.
" A careful training in Gymnastic, as well as
in Music, ought to begin with their childhood and
go on through their life. But this is my view of
the case :—not that a good body will necessarily
make the soul good ; but that a good soul will by
its proper virtue render the body as perfect as it
can be. We must therefore first administer the
requisite treatment to the mind, and then charge
it with the direction of the body, laying down
only the general principles of our scheme.
206 THE REPUBLIC.
" We have already said that the persons in
question must avoid intoxication. A guard must
not get drunk. It would be absurd that a guard
should require a guardian.
" Then about eating. Our men are athletes
preparing for a great combat. Will then the
habit of body which is cultivated by the trained
fighters in the palaestra be suitable to them? Not
quite. It is a drowsy regimen and produces an
insecure state of health. Men in regular training
sleep their life away ; and if they deviate at all
from their prescribed diet are attacked by serious
maladies.
"'Therefore a better-conceived regimen is required
for our athletes of war, who must be wakeful
like watch-dogs, and be very quick of eye and
ear : and who are so exposed when on service to
variations of food and water, that it will not do
for them to be of precarious health.
" And so we must have a Gymnastic which is
sister to the Music which we described as fit for
us : a simple, moderate system.
" On these points we may take a lesson from
Homer. In the repasts of his heroes when they
are in the field, he never sets fish before them,
although they are upon the shore of the Hellespont
; nor yet boiled meat, but only roast, which
soldiers could of course procure most readily : for
anywhere there is less difficulty in using mere fire
than in carrying about pots and pans.
" Neither has Homer said anything about
sauces. But indeed it is known to all trainers,
as well as to Homer, that a man who desires to
be in good condition must abstain from such
dainties.
" We do not therefore approve of a Syracusan
table and a Sicilian variety of dishes ; nor of a
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 207
taste for the damsels of Corinth ; nor of those
celebrated delicacies of Athenian confectionary.
" In fact this whole system of feeding may be
compared to that complex and meretricious system
of Music which we have rejected. And as in
music, variety begat dissoluteness in the soul, so
here it begets disease in the body : and simplicity
in gymnastic is productive of good health, as in
music it was productive of rightmindedness.
" But where bodily disease and mortal cupidity
abound in a city, there law-courts and surgeries
are opened in abundance. And Law and Physic
begin to hold their heads high, when numbers
even of well-born persons devote themselves with
eagerness to these professions.
" Where can you find a more cogent proof that 14
a low and vicious education prevails in a state,
than in the fact that every body runs to physicians
and lawyers : not merely base-born mechanics, but
even gentlemen of birth and breeding. Does it
not seem a scandalous thing, and a proof of bad
education, to be obliged to import justice from
others, in consequence of the scanty supply at
home; making them our lords and judges ?"
We are here reminded of St Paul's remonstrance
with the members not of an imaginary
but of a real polity (1 Cor. vi. 1): " Dare any
of you go to law before the unjust? I speak to
your shame. Brother goeth to law with brother."
The Dialogue goes on :
" It is still more scandalous when a man not
only consumes the greater part of his life in courts
of law, but is proud of being skilled in their
practices '• boasts of being an adept in getting the
better of others ; of being master of tricks and
turns, manoeuvre and evasion, so as always to
wriggle out of the grasp of the law and escape
208 THE REPUBLIC.
•
from defeat : and that for such a trifle as money."
And now Physic is to be condemned, as well
as Law. Plato has no feeling for permanent valetudinarians.
" Do you not hold it disgraceful to require
medical aid, unless it be for a wound, or an attack
of some epidemic ;—to require it, I mean, in consequence
of want of exercise and through high
living, such as we have spoken of?—to get ourselves
stuffed with humours and wind, like quagmires,
so as to compel the clever sons of Esculapius
to call our diseases by such names as flatulence
and catarrh.
" Such are newfangled names ; not known in
Esculapius's time. So I infer, because at Troy
when Eurypylus was wounded, his sons (the
physicians Machaon and Podalirius 1) did not blame
the woman who gave him a draught of Pramnian
wine, with a plentiful sprinkling of barley-meal,
and cheese grated over it, which would now be
thought an inflammatory potion. Nor did they
rebuke Patroclus who dressed the wound.
" We must consider that formerly, till the
time of Herodicus, the sons of Esculapius did not
follow our present medical practice, which is, to
nurse diseases as rich men's sons are nursed by
their attendants. Herodicus was a training-master:
he fell into bad health, and made such a compound
of physic and gymnastic as served to be a torment
to him and to many since him : namely, he made
his death a lingering one. He had a mortal
disease, which he followed step by step with medicines
; he could not cure himself though he attended
to nothing else. He was distressed if ever he
deviated from his regimen : and so in virtue of
1 Iliad, ii. 729, and xi. 623 and 829.
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 209
his professional skill he secured a miserable old
age.
" Now it was not because Esculapius did not
know or had not tried this kind of medical treatment
that he did not transmit it to his followers.
But he was aware that in well-regulated communities
every man has his work assigned him in
the state, which he must do. No one has leisure
to spend his life as an invalid in the doctor's
hands. We see this among the labouring population
: we cannot see it in the case of the rich
and idle. When a carpenter is ill he expects to 15
receive a draught from his doctor that will expel
the disease by vomiting or purging, or get rid of
it by cautery or the knife. If a doctor were to
prescribe to him a long course of diet, and to order
him to bandage up his head and the like, he
would tell such a doctor that he had no time to be
ill : that it was not worth his while to live in this
way, attending to nothing but his malady and
neglecting his proper occupation. He would wish
the doctor a good morning, and enter upon his
usual course of life ; and either regain his health
and go on doing his business : or if his constitution
could not bear the shock, he would die and
have done with his troubles.
" Now for a man in that station of life, this is
thought the proper use to make of medical assistance.
And why ? Is it because he had a work
to do, which if he failed to do it was not worth
his while to live, while we suppose that the rich
man has no appointed work of this kind?
" But let us listen to Phocylides, when he says
that as soon as a man has got whereon to live he
ought to practise virtue. We might reply, Yes, and
before that time too. But let us have no quarrel
with him on this point : but let us inform ourselves
PLAT. III.
210 THE REPUBLIC.
whether the rich have to practise virtue, so that,
if they do not, life is worthless to them : whether
this nosotrophy, this accepted condition of permanent
disease, though it be an impediment in carpentering,
is no impediment to the rule of Phocylides.
"Now, in truth, there is no greater impediment
to that rule than an excessive care of the body,
going beyond gymnastic. It is harassing to a
man, whether he be engaged in domestic business
or serving in the field, or sitting as a magistrate at
home. And the worst of it is, that it is a grievous
hindrance to all study, and reflection and meditation:
for the valetudinarian is ever apprehensive
of some headache or dizziness, which he accuses
philosophy of producing. And therefore so far as
virtue is practised and proved by intellectual study,
this state is a mere obstacle to it. It makes a man
always fancy himself ill; never lets him rest from
anxiety about his health.
" And so we maintain that Esculapius, know-.
ing this, transmitted to his followers the healing art,
for the benefit of those whose constitutions were
naturally sound, and had not been impaired by
their habits of life ; but were suffering from some
specific complaint. This being so he used to expel
their diseases by drugs and the use of the knife,
'without interrupting their customary avocations,
that he might not damage the interests of the state.
But when the constitution was thoroughly diseased
to the core, he would not attempt to protract a
-miserable existence by a studied regimen, and injections
and ejections ; he would not suffer them
to beget children in all probability as diseased as
themselves. He thought medical treatment illbestowed
upon one who •could not live in his
regular round of duties ; and so, was of no use
'either to himself or- the state. •
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 211
" Thus Esculapius was a profound politician ;
and because he was so, his sons, as you may have
observed, proved themselves brave men in the battle
before Troy; and also employed the healing art
in the manner I have described. When Menelaus
had been wounded by the spear of Pandarus
Iv. 208) :
'Sucking the blood from the gash they laid mild simples
upon it.'
But what he was to eat and drink after this, they
no more prescribed than in the case of Eurypylus,
knowing that the simples were sufficient to
cure men who were healthy and regular in their
mode of life, even if they happened to drink the
next moment a compound of meal, wine, and
cheese. As for those who had bad constitutions
or were intemperate, they thought the existence of
such a man no gain, either to himself or to others.
They thought that their art was not meant for persons
of that sort, and that it was wrong to attempt
their cure, even if they were richer than Midas.
" And yet the tragedians and Pindar dissent 16
from us. While they assert that Esculapius was
the son of Apollo, they declare that he was induced
by a bribe of gold to raise to life a rich man
who was dead, which was the cause of his being
smitten with a thunderbolt. But we, with our
principles, cannot believe both these statements of
theirs. We shall maintain that if he was the son
of a god, he was not covetous ; if he was covetous,
he was not the son of a god.
" But the question remains : shall we have
physicians in our city, and also lawyers? (namely
judges). Now a physician requires an experience
both of health and of disease, and it may be, of
disease in himself. A lawyer governs mind by
P 2
212 THE REPUBLIC.
mind. His mind, therefore, must not be reared
among vicious minds, and run the whole round of
crime in its own experience, as is allowable in the
case of bodily disorders. On the contrary, it
ought from early youth to have been free from all
experience and taint of evil habits. It must be
qualified by its own excellence to administer sound
justice. Good people when young, are simple and
easy victims to the impositions of bad men, because
they have not in their own consciousness
examples of passions like those of the wicked.
Therefore to make a good judge, a man must not
be young but old. This acquaintance with what injustice
is, must be acquired late in life ; not by
observing it as an inmate of a man's own soul, but
by long practice in discerning its baneful nature as
it exists in the souls of others : in other words,
he must be guided by knowledge, not by his own
experience.
" Such is a good judge. But your smart and
suspicious lawyer, who has been guilty himself of
many crimes, and fancies himself knowing and
clever, so long as he has to deal with men like
himself, betrays astonishing wariness,—thanks to
those inward examples which he has ever in sight.
When however he comes into communication with
men of years and virtue he shows himself to be no
better than a fool, with his mistimed suspicions, and
his ignorance of a healthy character, which are the
consequences of his not possessing within himself
any example of such a thing. But as he falls in
oftener with wicked than with good men, he seems
both to himself and to others to be rather clever
than foolish."
We may suppose that here, as in other parts
of the Dialogue, Plato is describing a state of
things which he saw at Athens. He goes on:
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 213
" It is then in a man of this stamp that we 17
must look for the good and wise judge, not in one
of the former class. For vice can never know
both itself and virtue ; but virtue in a well instructed
nature will, in time, acquire a knowledge
both of itself and of vice. The virtuous man,
therefore, and not the vicious man, will make the
wise Judge.
" And thus we establish in our city the two
professions of Medicine and of Law ; each such as
we have described. They are to bestow their services
on those only of the citizens whose bodily
and mental constitutions are sound and good :
leaving those that are otherwise as to the state of
their body, to die ; and actually putting to death
those who are naturally corrupt and incurable in
soul."
This is a somewhat severe view of the analogy
between the business of the Judge and the
Physician.
" And thus those who establish a system of
Education, and Music, and Gymnastic, do not, as
is commonly said, intend to apply the one to the
improvement of the soul, the other to that of the
body. On the contrary, they introduce both
mainly for the sake of the soul.
" For consider the characteristics which distinguish
those who have been practised in Gymnastic
all their lives without any acquaintance
with Music ; and again of those who have attended
to Music and not to Gymnastic.
" Those who have devoted themselves to Gymnastic
become too rough and hard, those who have
devoted themselves to Music become too soft and
mild.
" But these are exaggerations of good elements.
Roughness and hardness are the natural produce
214 THE REPUBLIC.
of the pugnacious element, which if rightly nurtured
produces courage. Mildness is a property
of the philosophic temperament, which rightly
nurtured renders the character gentle and orderly.
"And we have said that our Guards ought to
combine both these attributes, naturally harmonized.
Where this harmony exists, the soul is
both sober and brave : where it is wanting, the
soul is coarse and cowardly.
18 "Accordingly, when a man surrenders himself
to Music, and gives up his soul to be flooded through
the funnel of his ears with those sweet and soft and
plaintive melodies which we have spoken of, and
spends his whole life in warbling and delighting
himself with song, such a man at the outset softens
whatever portion of the pugnacious element he possesses,
as iron is softened, and makes it ductile and
useful, instead of rigid and useless. But if he do
not stop in time, but goes on with this softening
process, his courage melts away, all the strength of
his soul is destroyed, and he is a feeble warrior.
This is the case if he has no courage in his disposition.
If this be not so, his courage becomes irri- 1A
tability. The smallest thing angers him, he becomes
choleric, vehement and ill-humoured.
" If the same man be given up entirely to
Gymnastic and to Eating, and neglect Music -1
and Philosophy, the excellent condition of his
body at first inspires him with courage and confidence,
and he becomes braver than before. But
what is the consequence of thus engaging in an
occupation to the exclusion of the Muse's influence?
Even supposing him to have possessed at first
some taste for learning, yet if that taste is never I
found with knowledge or inquiry, and takes no
part in rational discourse or any intellectual pur- 1
suits, does it not become weak, and deaf, and
ON EDUCATION IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 215
blind, from the want of stimulus and nourishment,
and purgation of the faculties ? It does. Consequently
such a man hates reasoning and literature.
He abandons the use of rational persuasion, and
like a wild beast, would decide everything by force
and violence. He lives in ignorance and coarseness,
a stranger to harmony and grace.
" And thus Gymnastic and Music are two providential
gifts, bestowed to correct two exclusive
temperaments, the irascible and the philosophic.
Not properly for soul and body respectively but for
the soul : and for the two virtues of Wisdom and
Courage, to put them in harmony, the one with
the other, by tension or relaxation of their springs.
He who can thus employ Gymnastic and Harmony
is better than the best musical instrument,
tuner. And some such tuner we must have in our.
state."
The different effects of Literature and Gymnastic
upon the character, as elements of education, are
presented to us in the Dialogue of The Rivals,
(Vol. i.) • which, as I have remarked, might be entitled
Philosophy and Gymnastic.
The delineation of the Education of the Ideal
State ends here. Socrates does, indeed, in a single
sentence, mention dancing, hunting and field exercises,
the sports of the gymnasium and the racecourse
; but merely to say that they require no
special discussion: and the Dialogue then proceeds
to the further construction of the Ideal State,
which has already been given.
216
REMARKS ON PLATO'S IDEAL EDUCATION.
IN the objections which Plato makes to the works of the
Greek poets as parts of Education, grounded on their unworthy
representations of the divine nature, we have an interesting proof
how far superior his natural religion was to the prevalent mythology.
The question of the exclusion of poets from the Ideal
State is the subject of another Digression in the Tenth Book,
which I shall give hereafter. The matter is there argued on
another ground, namely the doctrine already put forth in the Ion,
that the imitative poet is only at the third stage from Truth ;
which doctrine is however there more closely connected with the
Platonic System of Ideas.
The efficiency ascribed to Music in its ordinary sense, as an
element of education seems to us strange. We cannot understand
what the musical 'Modes' could be, so that the use of one or
other of them in a boy's training should materially affect his
character. As I have already said, I conceive that these Modes
must have differed somewhat in the same manner as our Major
and Minor scales or modes differ : the one being more cheerful
and spirited, the other more tender and plaintive. We may
imagine such differences to be more than two : indeed they are
so with us; for the minor scale is made to assume several forms ;
and in the major scale we have often a cadence on the third
above the key-note, which makes it a different strain. It seems
almost certain that the Grecian modes must have differed mainly
in the cadence of the strain and in the half notes which occurred
in the gamut. And that strains with such differences, undis
turbed by harmonies, and long and often dwelt on, can produce
deep effects on the souls of susceptible persons, we can have no
doubt.
Dr Burney, in his History of Music, makes the difference of
the Greek modes to be a difference of key in our ordinary sense
of a difference of keys, as when we speak of the key of C major
or of D major, or the like. These keys have no doubt a difference
of character, so that one is much more bright and lively,
another more grave and solemn. These keys are, with us,
REMARKS ON PLATO'S IDEAL EDUCATION. 217
distinguished by the number of sharps and flats which are added
to the natural gamut in order to form the scale of the key. But
the differences of character of keys so related to each other
depend on their being referred to a fixed gamut, such as that of a
keyed instrument, and are governed by the temperament according
to which the instrument is tuned. Now the Greek scale was
not a scale thus tempered, but a pure untempered scale, as we
know from their mathematical writers on music. Moreover,
though the differences of the different keys as to cheerfulness or
plaintiveness, and the like, are considerable, they are much
smaller differences than the differences in this respect of our
major and minor modes ; they are differently estimated by different
persons ; and they also depend for their degree upon the
scheme of temperament adopted. I conceive therefore that the
difference of the Dorian and Lydian modes, and the like, was
more of the nature of our difference of major and minor scales
or modes, than of our difference of keys.
We have another example of a peculiarity of musical scale
which produces a peculiarity of expression, in what is called
Scotch music. In this the third and the seventh of the key being
omitted, a noticeable character is given to the airs ; though it
would probably be deemed too fanciful a speculation to ascribe to
this any of the peculiarities of the Scotch character.
What is said of Gymnastic, as tending to make men rude and
coarse when not duly balanced by Music and Philosophy, puts us
in mind, as I have already said, of the two rival students in the
Dialogue of The Rivals in our first volume. The remarks on
Cookery and Medicine are a curious example of the tendency to
introduce on every occasion of speculation a reference to Homer.
THE REPUBLIC.
DIGRESSION IL
THE CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE
IDEAL POLITY.
(Republic, B. v. § 1.
AFTER the end of the Fourth Book, when
the Ideal State has been constructed, there
ensues a large quantity of digressive discussion
occupying the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Book.
Dividing this discussion into separate Parts, we
may take, as the first Part, that which refers to the
subject above stated, The Condition of Women in
the Ideal State. That this and the subsequent discussions
are digressive is plainly indicated in the
Dialogue itself. Socrates in the beginning of the
Fifth Book proposes to discuss the deviation from
the Ideal Polity, which subject he really does pursue
in the Eighth Book ; and he is diverted from
doing what he proposes at first by the urgency of
his friends, who propound to him the new subject
above named. I will give the Dialogue in which
their request is conveyed, and then go on to a more
direct and uninterrupted account of Socrates's
strange and indeed monstrous propositions. Socrates
says,
" Such then is the state, and such the man
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 219
that I call good and right. All others which
deviate from this I consequently call bad, the
states in their administrations, the men in their
dispositions : and there are four kinds of this badness."—"
What are those?" said Adeimantus.
" I was going to speak of them in order, as I
conceived them, and of the transition from one to
another, but Polcmarchus—for he sat a little beyond
Adeimantus,—stretching out his hand and
taking hold of him by the top of his vest near the
shoulder, drew him towards him, and leaning towards
him whispered something to him. We only
heard these words. Shall we let him off? or
how?'—' By no means,' said Adeimantus aloud.
And I said, What or who is it that you will
not , let off?'—'You,' said he.—' As how ?'
said I."
" We think," said he, " that you are lazy ; and
that you are going to cheat us out of a part of
your discourse, not the least interesting, that
you may not have the trouble of going regularly
through it. You are trying to slip away from
us by saying, in a slight way, that every one
could see that the rule Among friends everything
is common property ' would apply to the women
and the children."
" Well, and was I not right, Adeimantus?"
" Yes, but this word right,' like the rest, requires
explanation. In what way is this community
to take place ? for there may be many
ways. Do not then omit to tell us which it is
that you mean. For we have been long waiting
in the hope that you would at least recollect to
say something about the procreation of children,
and of the way of bringing them up, and in short,
of all that belong to this community of women
and children. We are persuaded that according
220 THE REPUBLIC.
as it is well or ill established, it is of great consequence,
or rather, that it is all-important to the
society. Now that we are passing onwards to the
consideration of another form of government, without
having sufficiently unfolded this point, we have
resolved, as you hear, not to allow you to go further
till you have explained this matter as you
have the rest."
" And I," said Glaucon, " vote with them."
" Yes, Socrates," says Thrasymachus, " we
are unanimously of this opinion."
2 " What have you done, I replied, in thus putting
me under duress, and opening, almost, the
whole subject of our Polity afresh ! I was congratulating
myself on having got past that place, and
glad if you would be satisfied with what I have
said. In reviving this subject you do not know
what a swarm of questions you have stirred up. I
saw well how it was : and I then let the subject
alone for fear of creating an endless stir."
" What !" said Thrasymachus : " do you think
that we are come here a gold-hunting ? Do you
think that we care for gold, or anything else, so
much as for philosophical discussions?"
" No," I said ; " but discussions of a moderate
measure."
" The due measure of such discussions, 0 Socrates,"
said Glaucon, " is the whole of life, for
sensible men. But as to the length of time occupied,
leave us to take care of ourselves. Only do
you not get tired of answering our questions. And
tell us in what way the Guards of our city are to
have in common the women and children; and how
the children are to be brought up in the interval
between birth and education properly so called—the
period when children require most cares Tell us
how these things are to be managed."
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 221
" That is not easy to do, my friend. What I
have to say will be received with more distrust
even than what I have said already. People will
not believe that the thing is possible ; and when it
has been shown to be quite possible they will not
believe that it is worth much. So I hesitate to
meddle with the subject. It will seem, my dear
friend, like a visionary wish."
" Do not be afraid," said he : " you speak to
hearers who are neither obstinate nor unfriendly
to you."
" My excellent friend," said I, " do you say
that with a view of encouraging me?"
" I do," said he.
" But what you say produces the opposite
effect. If I were confident of my own knowledge
of the subject, your encouragement would have
been well and good ; for to speak on weighty and
interesting topics among intelligent friends, is a
thing that may be done with freedom and confidence
if we think that we have truths to tell ; but
to speak, as I do, doubting and still seeking, is
dangerous ; and makes one fear,—not to be laughed
at—that would be a childish fear—but to go aside
from the truth, and along with you to mislead
your friends into error where error is fatal. And
so, 0 Glaucon, I must entreat Adrastea [the
avenging goddess of unintentional homicide] to
look indulgently on what I am going to say. For
I fear that it is a less crime to kill a person involuntarily,
than to cheat him about what is honest
and good and just and lawful."
" At this Glaucon laughed, and said, Well,
Socrates, if your discourse does us any mischief,
we will refuse to prosecute you, as people sometimes
do in the case of homicide. We will not
accuse you as a cheat. So speak, and fear nothing.'

222 THE REPUBLIC. •
" Well," said I, " in the case of homicide, a
man is safe who is not prosecuted; and so it must
be, by analogy, in this case."
" Therefore," said he, " say on."
" I must then resume a subject which perhaps
I might better have followed out in its proper
place. But it will not be unsuitable, after having
determined in all points the part which men have
to play, to examine the women's part ; especially
since you challenge me to do it."
After this prologue, the subject is followed out
steadily.
3 " Men born and brought up as we have described
cannot do anything better, in respect to the
possession of women and children, than follow the
line which we have already traced out for them.
But we have represented the men as the Guards
or Guardians of a flock. Let us follow out this
notion, and see how it will do.
• " in the care of a flock, do we hold that
the female dogs should, as well as the males,
guard the sheep, hunt with the male dogs, and
share their employments in general? or do we
hold that they should stay at home, laying it
down as a rule that the office of having litters of
puppies, and of bringing them up, makes it impossible
for them to do anything else, and that the
male dogs must have the whole care of the flock?
No. We require that the male and female should
share in everything ; only we treat the females as
the weaker, and the males as the stronger.
" But it is not possible to use animals for the
same work if we do not give them the same
training and education. If, then, we are to employ
the women in the same duties as the men,
we must give them the same education.
" To the ,men we gave, as , their education,
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 223
Music and Gymnastic. We must therefore train
the women in the same arts. We must educate
them for soldier's service, and treat them in all
respects as we do the men.
" But perhaps of all the things which look
ridiculous because they are novel, you would say
that the most ridiculous would be the women
practising gymnastic exercises naked along with
men ;—not only young women, but old women,
like the old men who continue to like such exercises
though they are wrinkled and unsightly.
Certainly it might appear ridiculous at the present
moment. But as we have begun, let us disregard
all the scoffs which fine gentlemen might utter at
such an innovation. Let us request the scoffers
to be serious, and to recollect that it is not long
since the Greeks thought, as the greater part of
the barbarians still think, that a naked man was
an indecent and ridiculous sight. When the Cretans
first, and the Lacedaemonians afterwards, introduced
naked exercises, the facetious persons of
that day probably mocked at the practice. But
when experience had shewn that it was better to
have the body naked than clothed in gymnastic
exercises, the reason seeing what was best, corrected
the eyes in their view of the ridiculous, and
proved that in the sight of all sensible men, there
is only one thing which is ridiculous, namely what
is bad : and that he who seeks to raise a laugh at
anything except what is unreasonable and vicious
is an empty fellow.
" But let us consider whether what we propose 4
is possible : and let every man, jocose or serious,
examine whether the female human nature is capable
of the same exercises as the male ; altogether
or in part, and especially as relates to war. And
that we may not attack when no one defends, let
224 THE REPUBLIC.
us consider the reasons alleged by the opposite
side.
" They might say, Socrates and Glaucon, you
need nobody else to contradict you : you contradict
yourselves. When you laid the foundations
of your state, you agreed that each person should
fulfil that single office for which nature had fitted
him.'—' It is true, we did so agree.'—' But is
there not an extreme difference between the nature
of the man and of the woman ?'—' Of course there
Therefore to man and to woman must be
assigned offices different according to their nature.'
—‘ Doubtless.'—' Is it not then a manifest error
and contradiction in you to say that men and women
should fulfil the same offices, notwithstanding
the difference of their nature ?'
" Now here is a difficulty that we must get out
of, whether we call it great or small. Whether a
man tumble into a small pond or into the wide
ocean, he must swim for it ; and perhaps some dolphin
may come and save us, as Anion was saved.
Let us look at the argument. We agreed that
different natures ought to have different offices,
and men and women are of different natures,
therefore they ought to have different offices. That
is the objection.
" But we must consider the meaning of the
proposition, and distinguish, as when we say that
different natures ought not to have the same offices,
what do we mean by different and the same? Has
a bald man and a long-haired man the same nature
or different? We say, different. If then bald
men make shoes, are long-haired men to be forbidden
to make shoes?—That would be absurd.
Why ? because we did not mean by different,
different in any way: but different as to their
fitness for the office in question.
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 225
" So if we find that the nature of the man 5
differs from that of the woman with reference to
a certain art or office, we shall conclude that we
must assign this art or this office to the one or the
other. But if the difference of the two sexes consists
in this, that the male begets children and
the woman bears them, we shall not therefore
consider it proved that the woman differs from the
man as to the point in question. And we shall
continue to hold that the Guards of the state and
the women who belong to them may discharge the
same offices.
" Now what is the art or office for which woman
has not received from nature the same aptitude
as man ? Man generally is superior ; for the
few exceptions are hardly worth mentioning ; as
weaving, pastry-making, cookery, in which it is a
disgrace for a woman not to excel men. But in
general the two sexes participate in the same faculties
; and the woman, as well as the man, is called
by nature to all offices ; only in all the woman is
inferior to the man.
" Why then should we impose all offices upon
men and none upon women ? A woman may have
a talent for music, or may want that talent ; may
have a talent for physic, or may not. And so she
may or may not have a talent for gymnastic or for
war. She may be intellectual or unintellectual ;
irascible or mild. And so as she may have the
same dispositions as our Guards, she may be fit
to be one of the guard; just as fit as a man, except
in so far as she may be weaker.
" Such women then are to be selected to be 6
the companions of the Guards in place and in duty.
And so we have established our first point, that it
is not against nature to give music and gymnastic
to the women who belong to the Guards. It was
PLAT.
226 THE REPUBLIC.
not a mere visionary wish which dictated our
law, nor is it an unnatural law. It is rather the
present existing state of things which is unnatural.
" As then such a scheme is seen to be possible,
we must next inquire if it is beneficial. Now we
take the best men to be our Guards, giving them
a proper education. We do not take those who
are fit to be shoemakers and are educated as shoemakers.
And so we must for the same purpose
take those of the women who are best. And it is
surely good for the city to have the best men and
the best women in their places. And this will be
brought about by their being educated in music
and gymnastic ; and so this institution is not only
possible but best for the state.
" These women then must strip for their exercises,
and must be clothed with their virtue instead
of vestments ; they must take their share in
war and in the other offices of the Guards, only
the lighter tasks being assigned to them as the
weaker sex. And he who laughs at the sight of
naked women, when naked for so good a purpose,
plucks laughter, unripe fruit of wisdom,' [as
Pindar says]. fie does not know what he is
laughing at. He does not know, what has been
and will always be true, that what is useful is
comely, and that nothing is uncomely but what is
mischievous.
" And so we have escaped one great wave
which threatened to overwhelm us when we propounded
this law, that women should share in the
duties of men ;—that there should be guards and
guardesses. This is now allowed to be both possible
and beneficial."
7 There then comes a part of the Platonic Scheme
which we can account for only by recollecting the
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 227
ethical purpose of the Polity. The Polity was to
represent the constitution of the human soul. There
are in the Ideal City three classes, the Rulers, the
Soldiers, and the Producers, which represent respectively
the three elements of human nature,
Reason, Pugnacity and Desire. And as the Soldiers
were there to represent one of the springs of
action, they could not, in consistency with the
scheme, be themselves moved by several springs,
such as the Family Affections, the Desire of Property,
and the like. These conditions, therefore,
Family and Property, were to be excluded in the
case of the Soldiers. So far as they are concerned,
the whole State is to be regarded as one Family,
having their property, and even their children, in
common. And Socrates goes on toprove that this
part of the institutions of his Ideal State is highly
beneficial.
" To convince ourselves of this, let us ask what 10
is the greatest evil in states, the most to be guarded
against by the legislature ; and examine if what I
have proposed does not avert this evil and tend to
the opposite good. The greatest evil in a state is
that which divides it and makes it several states.
The greatest good is that which binds it together
and makes it one. And this is produced by the
community of pleasure and pain, when the citizens
joy and sorrow alike at good and at bad events.
And that is the case when the citizens do not
speak of mine and not mine, as applied to different
objects ; but when all the citizens say of the same,
This is mine, and this is not mine, then the city is
like one man. So when one finger is hurt, the
whole frame of body and soul, united by the governing
principle, feels the hurt which affects one part,
and we say the man has a pain in his finger. And
so for any other part, the whole feels the pain or
Q 2
228 THE REPUBLIC.
the pleasure which affects the part. And such
is the case with a well ordered state. When any
one of the citizens receives good or evil, the whole
state sympathizes with him and feels pleasure or
pain.
11 " And now to apply this to our State : let us see
if what we have been saying applies more especially
to it. In other States, as in ours, there are Governors
and People. All these are called Citizens; but
in other States the Governors are called besides,
Despots, in most, Archons in democratic states :
with us, besides being called citizens, they are called
Saviours and Guardians. With us the Guardians
call the people their Paymasters and Supporters :
in other States the Rulers call them Slaves. They
speak of Fellow-Rulers, we of Fellow-Guardians.
And their Rulers treat each other some as friends,
some as strangers. They consider the interest of
their friends as theirs ; that of strangers as not
theirs. But the Guardians, with us, do not regard
any of their number as a stranger. Each will think
he sees in each of the others a brother or a sister,
a father or a mother, a son or a daughter, or the
like near relative.
" But they must not be content with giving
each other the names of these relations : we must
require that their actions should conform to their
words. Each must render to those whom they
call father respect and obedience and deference, or
he must be regarded as impious and wicked : and
all the citizens will sing in the ears of children
from an early age such maxims of conduct to relatives.
And thus our State more than another will
have joys and sorrows common to all : and thus
we shall have in our State what we agreed was
the greatest good of a State."
12 He traces yet other results of this unity of in-
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 229
terests. He notes that there will be no lawsuits, because
no one has any private property ; no charges
of assault or violence. The more aged will have
authority to chastise the younger. A young man
will never assault an older man ; looking on him as
a father, and fearing punishment from his father's
brothers. And so there will be no discord. Also
the poor will have no occasion to flatter the rich :
there will be no embarrassments arising from the
expense of education ; and from money borrowed
for that purpose, and to maintain servants in all
kinds of base and unworthy proceedings, which
even a blind man may see.
" All this they will escape, and will live a life 13
more happy than that which is reckoned the happiest,
the life of the Olympic victors. They are
reckoned happy for the possession of a small part
only of those blessings which our citizens enjoy.
Our victory is more beautiful, out public maintenance
more complete. For our victory is the safety
of the State : our maintenance is a supply of all
that life needs for them and their children—a life
of rewards and a worthy funeral.
• " And you may recollect, perhaps, that some
time ago some one, I do not recollect who',
reproached us with neglecting the happiness of
our Guards, who having it in their power to
take all that the other citizens had, really were
to possess nothing.• We replied that we would
examine how far this reproach was well founded
when the opportunity occurred : our object then
being to make a happy State, not to make one class
happy.
But after what we have now said, do you
think that the condition of a shoemaker or any
other artisan is comparable with that of our Sol-
1 Adeimantus at the beginning of B. iv.
230 THE REPUBLIC.
diers ? which is, as we have seen, superior to that
of the Olympic victors. But still I must repeat
what was then said : that if the soldier seeks a
kind of happiness which takes away his character
of Guard : if, discontented with a modest and safe
and advantageous condition, a foolish childish
fancy impels him to seize more, he will know how
wise Hesiod was when he said, ' The half exceeds
the whole.'
14 " But we must consider whether we can establish
in the human race this community of habits,
and how it is to be done. The men and women
will go to the wars together, and will take with
them the more robust of their children ; in order
that they, like the children of artisans, may see
that which is to be their business when grown up ;
and besides, that they may help their elders in what
they can. You must have seen, for example, the
son of a potter look at his father when he is working
before he touches the wheel himself. In like
manner our Soldiers must learn their trade.
" Moreover every animal combats with more
courage when its young are present.
" But the young ones will be in danger, you
say; and so the race of Soldiers may be destroyed,
and the State receive a deadly blow. We must
avoid this : though we must run some risk, considering
the great advantage to be gained. The
children must not go on the most perilous expeditions.
They must be under careful and judicious
commanders. And they must be provided with
wings to fly away in case of need : that is, they
must go on light and docile horses, so that if
danger pursue, they may ride away with their
governors.
" Then as to the discipline in war ; the rule
must be that he who quits his rank, throws away
CONDITION OF WOMEN IN THE IDEAL POLITY. 231
his arms, or shows cowardice in any way, must be
sent down among the artisans and husbandmen.
He who is taken alive by the enemy must be left
in their hands unclaimed, and they may do what
they like with him.
" But him who has distinguished himself, the
boys and young men who follow the army must,
on the field of battle, crown with garlands, each
placing one on his head. Each must take him by
the hand. Each must kiss him and be kissed by
him.
" We are following Homer, who makes those 15
who are eminent in war to be rewarded. He says,
that Ajax having won renown in the war, received
by way of distinction whole chines of beef' (Ii.
321), it being regarded as an honour which,
besides the glory of it, would increase his strength,
and was appropriate to a brave man in the vigour
of manhood. And so we will take a hint from
Homer ; and in our sacrifices and similar solemnities
we will honour the brave, with hymns, and
with such privileges as we have mentioned ; and
also with seats of honour, and viands, and goblets
often replenished,' (Ii. viii. 162) : intending
both to do them honour and to make them stronger,
women as well as men.
" As for those who die in the campaign, we
shall give out that those who die bravely are of
the golden race. And we shall believe in Hesiod's
doctrine, that when any of this race die, (Hes.
Works and Days, 121),
g They into spirits are changed, earth-haunting, beneficent, holy,
Mighty to screen us from harm, and of speech-gifted men the
protectors.'
And we shall consult the oracle as to the funeral
rites which we ought to bestow upon those supe-
232 THE REPUBLIC.
rior and divine men, and so inter them. And
thenceforth shall regard their sepulchres as those
of superior beings, and pay them due respect and
worship. And the same with regard to other citizens
of very eminent merit who die of old age or
from any other cause."
Here the special subject of this digression ends.
But Socrates goes on to propose certain Laws of
War for his Ideal State, which are remarkable.
They are Rules condemning the severe and cruel
practices which the Greek States in their wars
with each other followed. These Rules thus approach
to the more humane Laws of War of modern
times.
" As to the conduct of our soldiers towards
their enemies : and first, as to the practice of making
slaves :—Does it seem right for Greeks to
make slaves of the freemen of Grecian cities?
Ought they not rather to forbid this practice, and
spare their own race, under the fear of being enslaved
by the barbarians ? They ought not to
have in their possession any Greek slaves, and
ought to advise others against having any. They
might then more easily make common cause against
the barbarians.
" Then again '• ought they to strip the dead ?
Is it not a sign of a womanish and paltry mind to
regard with hostile feelings the body of a dead man,
when the real enemy has flown away, leaving only
the instrument with which he fought ? Are those
who thus act any better than dogs which growl at
the stone which has been thrown at them, and let
the person that threw it alone? We must there-
PROPOSED LAWS OF WAR. 233
fore banish the practice of stripping the dead, and
preventing the removal of the bodies.
" Neither shall we carry the arms of our con- 16
quered enemies to the temples, to dedicate them
there : especially the arms of Greeks, for we must
keep up good will among Greeks. We shall fear
that the temple may be desecrated by trophies won
from our own brethren ; except, indeed, the oracle
should declare otherwise.
" Again, as to ravaging the lands and burning
the houses of Greeks. We disapprove of both
these practices ; we would only allow the crop of
the year to be carried off. For there is distinction
as to a war between strangers, and a war between
friends and relatives. The former may properly
be called war; the latter a quarrel. But all the
members of the Greek race are brethren and kinsmen
to one another , aliens and foreigners to the
barbarian world. And therefore when Greeks
fight with barbarians we may call it war ; when
Greeks with Greeks, it is a quarrel. Now when
we have a quarrel between parties in a city, if each
party ravage the lands and burn the houses of the
other, they are looked upon as sinful and unpatriotic
: if they had any patriotism, they would not
have the heart to mangle their nurse and mother.
It is considered, in such a case, that one party
cannot in fairness do more than carry off the crop
of the other. They ought to feel that they will
one day be reconciled. This practice betokens a
far more humane feeling than the other.
"Now the City which we are founding is to be
a Greek city: therefore its citizens should be gentle
and humane. They should be patriotic Greeks,
looking upon all Hellas as their common country,
and sharing with their fellow-countrymen in the
rites of a common religion. They will therefore
234 THE REPUBLIC.
regard a dissension with Greeks, not as a war, but
only as a quarrel. They will correct their opponents
in a friendly spirit, and chastise them without
any thought of enslaving them or destroying
them—as chastisers, not as enemies.
" And being Greeks, they will not devastate
Greece nor burn houses, nor treat all the men,
women, and children of a city as their foes. They
will confine this name to the few who were the
authors of the quarrel. They will push the quarrel
only to that point at which the innocent are
induced by their sufferings to bring the guilty to
justice."
These suggestions as to the Laws of War are
curious and interesting, as approaching to the humanities
of modern warfare, and to the principle of
regarding as members of one family all civilized
nations, or all Christendom, (for these notions have
with us replaced the notion of a Greek world with
barbarians outside it.) The Dialogue then proceeds
to discuss the possibility of such institutions
as have been described being really established
and worked, and this leads to what I may present
as another Digression.
REMARKS ON THE CONDITION OF WOMEN
IN THE PLATONIC STATE.
THE strange proposals respecting women which Plato delivers,
and which I have described in the most general terms, omitting
his details, may, as I have said, be ascribed to the imperfection of
his analysis of the Springs of Human Action. He had in his City
REMARKS ON THE CONDITION OF WOMEN, &C. 235
three classes, the Rulers, Soldiers, and Producers, which represented
respectively the three elements of man, Reason, Pugnacity,
and Desire. As the Soldiers were there to represent one of the
springs of action, they could not themselves be moved by several
springs, such as the Family Affections, the Desire of Property,
and the like. A more complete analysis of human nature, in
which these latter springs of action are duly recognized, deposes
the Irascible or Pugnacious Element from the anomalous ascendancy
which Plato assigns to it, and from which, in a great
degree, his arrangements respecting women flow.
I have given the ethical aspect of the Platonic scheme : but it
also offers itself as a proposal for the political constitution of a
State : a constitution, as was forthwith objected, impracticable and
unprofitable. Aristotle's criticism of it in the Second Book of
his Politics, given from this point of view, is very decisive.
The proposal that women should participate in gymnastic
exercises, was one of the points on which the natural repugnance
to such exhibitions among the Athenians was likely to be sharpened
by the fact that such practices existed already as a distinctive
part of the Spartan institutions. We have this feeling expressed
in the Andromache of Euripides (v. 671, Potter's Translation) :
" Nor, were her will
Dispos'd, could one of Sparta's female race
Be modest, where the virgins quit the house
And with uncinctur'd vests and naked thighs
Mix with young men contending in the race,
And share th' athletic sports—not, as I think,
To be allowed."
THE REPUBLIC.
DIGRESSION III.
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS.
(Republic, B. v. § 18-22. vi. § 1-12.)
THIS Digression offers to us the celebrated as-
I sertion of Plato, that it will never be well
with the world till philosophers are kings, or kings
philosophers. This assertion sounds extravagant :
yet it might be deemed a plausible thesis, if by
philosophers we were to understand really wise
men ;—men the most able both to select the best
objects of political action, and to devise the means
of attaining them. But Plato here uses the term
philosopher in a more especial sense : he means by
it one who has made himself master of universal
and necessary truths ;—according to his own expression,
one who has a knowledge of the really
existing, in opposition to mere seeming ; of the
always existing, in opposition to the transitory ;
of that which exists permanently, in opposition to
that which waxes, is developed and destroyed alternately.
It will appear by his own explanation that
what he means by these phrases is a knowledge of
universal and necessary truth, such as the Greeks
had then attained to in Arithmetic and Geometry,
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 237
and such as he conceived might also be arrived at
in Ethics and Politics. He conceived that there
might be and must be a Science of the Good ;
the really existing, permanent, eternal, universal
Good, as there is a science of the really existing,
permanent, eternal, universal properties of
number or of space. He aimed at such a science :
he assumed its existence ; and he asserted and
laboured to prove that the men who possessed
such a science were the proper rulers of mankind.
This is the subject of the disquisition upon which
he enters in the beginning of the Fifth Book,
after having described some of the main features
of the Polity of his imaginary Commonwealth ;
and I must give an account of his views and reasonings,
compressing and modifying his exposition
of them, as I have done with regard to other parts
of the work.
Socrates, after saying that he expects what he
is going to assert will be received with a tempest
of ridicule and incredulity, goes on thus :
" The result to which we aspire can never be 18
obtained, unless either philosophers are the rulers
in states, or the rulers of states pursue philosophy
freely and fully. Philosophy and Political Power
must come to coincide. Those who apply themselves
to one of the two pursuits separately must be
excluded. Till then, there can be no intermission
of the existing evils of states and of the human
race ; nor can that Polity which we have been
describing ever emerge into a possibility and see
the light of the sun. But yet I hardly venture
to utter such a sentiment as this, knowing how repugnant
it is to common opinion. It is difficult
for men to see that no other course can brin g happiness,
either private or public."
Glaucon replies with a sort of pleasant exagge-
238 THE REPUBLIC.
ration, but yet with significance : " Yes, Socrates ;
you have uttered such a doctrine that there will
be a host of men, and those, considerable persons,
whom you will have drawn upon yourself in such
a rage that they will be ready to fling off their
coats that they may use their arms the better, and
to take any weapon that they can lay hold of,
with which they may run in upon you. Unless
you can defend yourself effectually against them,
you will have to fight for your life."
Socrates replies, accepting the pleasantry :
"And is it not you who have brought me into
this scrape, by requiring me to declare my opinion?"
Glaucon says : " I did so, and I did well. And
I will not desert you. I will stand by you to the
best of my power. I have good-will and goodhope
at your service ; and perhaps I can help you
by answering your appeals better than another
would, as you go on in the argument. So reckon
upon me in that way ; and set about proving to
the unbelievers that the matter is as you say."
Socrates answers : " Well, I must try ; since
you promise me such good help. We must, then,
explain what kind of philosophers we mean. It
will, we hope, appear, when this has been done,
that they are naturally fitted both to philosophize
and to rule."
19 He then proceeds to point out how many and
how admirable are the good qualities that belong
to a truly philosophical spirit. " A philosopher,"
he says, " is a lover of Wisdom. But those who
love anything, love it in every kind. Those who
love youthful beauty (as you, Glaucon, ought to
know) have something to say in praise of every
kind of beauty. A snub nose is pretty ; an aquiline
nose is imperial ; a straight nose is regular.
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 239
Black haired beauties are noble ; those with fair
complexions are the children of the gods ; those
who have a sallow face have the complexion of
honey, as their ingenious and passionate lovers
have discovered. So the lovers of wine find merit
in all wine, and reason in all excuse for drinking.
The lovers of honours, if they cannot get to be
privy councillors of the state, are willing to take
up with being common-council men of their town.
If they cannot obtain honour from the many and
the great, they seek to get it from the few and the
little. He who is a lover, loves all through. So
the lover of wisdom loves all wisdom ; all kinds of
wisdom. He who quarrels with any kind of learning,
especially when he is a young man who has
not learnt to distinguish between good and bad, is
not a lover of learning, and so, not a philosopher.
A man who is dainty in his food is not hungry ;
he is not food-loving but food-quarreling. He
who wants to learn everything and is always
eager to learn is the philosopher."
Glaucon hereupon suggests : " At this rate,
you will have many queer philosophers. Those
who are fond of public spectacles ai e desirous of
learning something, in their way ; and will be rejoiced
to find themselves thereby philosophers.
Those who are fond of hearing the choruses at the
Dionysian festivals, so fond that they seem as if
they had bound their oars to the service, and never
miss an occasion either in the city or in the
surrounding villages (while they have not the
smallest taste for discussions and speeches,) are odd
philosophers. Shall we call all these' philosophers
?'
Socrates says, " No ; they are a bastard sort
of philosophers. "
1 I omit ical TOLI T GOV EXV1.141411
240 THE REPUBLIC.
" And who," says Gelon, " are true philosophers?"
20 Socrates replies : " Those who are fond of the
spectacle of truth. And to you, Gelon, I may
venture to explain this further.
" Good and Bad are distinct and opposite
things. Each of them is one definite idea. So,
Just and Unjust, Beautiful and Vile, are each a
definite idea. But each of these ideas assumes
different appearances by the difference of the bodies
and acts with which it is associated on various
occasions. Now those lovers of spectacles and
choruses, of whom we have spoken, and true philosophers,
are distinguished in this way. They,
the lovers of shows and concerts, are fond of beautiful
figures and colours and sounds, and of contrivances
which are made by combining these ; but
their nature is incapable of seeing and comprehending
the Beautiful Itself. They who are capable of
seeing and dealing with the Beautiful itself are
very few. But he who apprehends objects as
beautiful but has no apprehension of the Beautiful
itself, who cannot even follow if one attempts to
lead him to it, is a mere dreamer. For is it not
dreaming when a man thinks he takes a thing
which is like another, not for like but for the same
with it, [as these persons take beautiful shows for
the Idea of Beauty] ? But he who is able to apprehend
both absolute Beauty and the things which
partake of it, and who does not take the things
which have it to be it, nor it to be things which
have it, that man is awake and not asleep.
" And the man who so apprehends things has
Knowledge, whereas the other man has only Opinion—
the one knows, the other only opines, or
thinks he knows. And if the man who, we say,
only opines, is angry at what we say of him ; and
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 241
questions our account of him, we must pacify him
and console him, and not tell him that it is merely
a disorder which he has.
" We must tell him, that if he really has knowledge
we do not grudge it him; we should be glad
to be sure that he does know anything. But we
have to ask this question : He who knows anything,
does he know something that is, or that
is not? Of course something that is : that which
is not, cannot be the object of knowledge. That
which is universally may be known universally ;
that which is not anywhere must be universally
unknown. But if there be things which are such
as both to be and not to be, they must lie between
that which is absolutely and that which is nowhere.
And Knowledge belongs to that which is ; Ignorance
to that which is not ; and to that which is
between, belongs something between Knowledge and
Ignorance. Now that which is between Knowledge
and Ignorance is Opinion. And thus Knowledge
and Opinion have different objects. Knowledge is
concerned with that which is ;—knows that it is ;
[Opinion deals with that which is or is not, as
occasion determines].
" But let us consider this a lithe further. There 21
are powers by which we are enabled to do what we
can do, [for example, to know] ; as there are powers
by which everything does what it does : the
vision has a power of seeing ; the ear has a power
of hearing. But these powers have no colour or
figure to which I can so refer, that I can distinguish
one power from another. In order to make
such distinction, I must look at the power itself,
see what it is and what it does. In that way I
discern the power of each thing ; and that is the
same power which produces the same effect ; and
that a different power which produces a different
PLAT. lip
242 THE REPUBLIC.
effect. Now Knowledge—true knowledge or science—
is a power ; the most manifest of powers.
Opinion is also a power. But Knowledge and
Opinion, as we have already agreed, are not the
same power; for the one is infallible, the other
by no means infallible. Knowledge and Opinion,
then, must have different objects. Now Knowledge
is concerned with what really is, and knows
it as it is. Opinion opines only. It cannot therefore
have for its object that which is the object of
knowledge; for different powers must have different
objects. That which is known and that which is
opined cannot be the same. But that which is
opined cannot be that which is not. Opinion has
an object, and that object cannot be something nonexisting.
That which does not exist is the object
of ignorance, not of opinion. Thus opinion deals
neither with that which is, nor with that which is
not : it is neither knowledge nor ignorance. Now
knowledge is the most lucid of all things, ignorance
the most obscure. And hence opinion must
be more dark than knowledge, more lucid than
ignorance. It lies between the two : it is an intermediate
thing.
" Thus, as we said before, if there be anything
which is of such a nature that it is and is not, it
lies between that which is absolutely, and that
which absolutely is not ; and with regard to such
thing there can be neither knowledge nor ignorance,
but something between knowledge and
ignorance ; and it appears that this intermediate
thing is what we call Opinion.
22 " It remains that we inquire what is this intermediate
object, which partakes of both—of being
and of not being,—and which cannot be said absolutely
either to be or not to be ; this intermediate
object we shall then assign to the intermediate
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 243
power, giving the extreme objects to the extreme
powers.
" Now I appeal to that ingenious gentleman
who thinks that there is no Absolutely Beautiful',
no Idea of Beauty always constant and identical,
but who thinks that there are many beautiful
things : and I ask him whether some of these
beautiful things are not sometimes ugly [by comparison
with others]. He must allow that they are.
And in like manner what is double in one aspect is
just as truly half in another. And so things cannot
be called great or small, heavy or light, with any
more truth than they can be called the opposite.
These things, then, are no more what you call
them than they are the opposite. They are and
they are not, as in the boy's riddle; a bat is a bird
and not a bird, a pumice is a stone and not a stone,
and so on. Now will such examples serve as the
intermediate objects which we want? Or can we
find anything better adapted to the purpose ? And
thus we find that which is esteemed as beautiful
by the many (and the same is the case with any
other notion) oscillates between the non-existing
and the absolutely existing. Now we have already
agreed that if we should find any such intermediate
thing, it must be the object of Opinion, not of
Knowledge. And so we shall say of those who
recognize many beautiful things, but who cannot
see the Beautiful itself, and cannot even
follow one who would lead them to it, that they
opine, but do not know the things about which
they opine. And the same is to be said of those
who recognize right actions, but do not recognize
an absolute Rightness ; and so of other Ideas. But
those who look at these Ideas—permanent and unchanging
Ideas—those men really know. And
See the Hippias.
R 2
244 THE REPUBLIC.
these men love and delight to contemplate that
concerning which they have Knowledge ; the others
love those things about which they have Opinion.
They love beautiful sights and sounds, and like to
see them and hear them, but they do not acknowledge
the Beautiful itself as existing. We are not
then to call these men Philosophers, Lovers of
Wisdom, but Philodoxi, Lovers of Opinion ; however
they may dislike the name, which, in truth,
they have no right to do : and those are philosophers
only who delight in the contemplation of
that which really exists, [namely, absolute Ideas]."
We are here carried away from the proposition
first announced, that philosophers are the
genuine rulers of the world, to a collateral or
subordinate proposition, that real philosophers are
those who employ their minds upon absolute Ideas,
such as the Idea of Beauty, Goodness, Rightness.
And a kind of proof is offered that these Ideas are
the only objects of real knowledge. This doctrine
of the proper objects of knowledge is a prominent
portion of the Platonic philosophy.
In order to see the force of Plato's arguments,
we are naturally led to ask what he had in his
mind in drawing this distinction between Knowledge
and Opinion ;—what examples had he known
of stable, certain, immutable knowledge, which
did not depend upon the mutable properties and
ambiguous relations of visible objects? and was
he thinking of such examples when he wrote the
present passage? To this, I think, we may very
confidently reply, that he had known examples of
stable and certain truths, namely, the truths of
Arithmetic and Geometry, which are demonstrable,
and therefore necessarily certain and unchanging.
And that he was in the habit of
thinking of such truths when he spoke of real
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 245
knowledge, we have evidence in many parts of the
Dialogues. In the Meno he gives a geometrical
proposition at length, in order to illustrate the
nature of knowledge. In the Phcedo he refers to
this illustration, as one familiar to the disciples of
the Socratic school ; and in the immediate sequel
of this very discussion on the philosophic character
of mind and its formation, he mentions arithmetic
and geometry as the appropriate instruments
for that purpose. And if we ask whether this
distinction is still acknowledged in our own times,
we shall find that the opposition of necessary and
contingent truths is still a fundamental point in
the most prevalent modern systems of philosophy.
If however we ask further, whether necessary
truth is attainable in other subjects, as well as in
mathematics, we shall find that this is by no
means generally acknowledged. And if we further
ask, whether stable and certain truths are to
be attained by employing our thoughts upon
Beauty, Rightness, Goodness, as Ideas which are
permanent and immutable, (however confused and
wavering may be the opinions of common men
concerning beautiful things, right actions, and
good sentiments,) we shall find a still scantier
assent to the Platonic doctrine. Though the distinction
of necessary and accidental truth is generally
acknowledged, it is not explained nor expressed
in the Platonic manner. Hence many of
the arguments which we have been translating,
are really not accepted as convincing.
The generally current and accepted philosophy
of knowledge does not recognize Ideas as
having such a character or holding such a place.
In short, the current philosophy of our times does
not agree with this part of the Platonic philosophy
; and therefore must hold the Platonic phi-
24G THE REPUBLIC.
losophy to be false. Those who speak of Plato
sometimes seem to overlook this consequence.
They speak with admiration of Plato's doctrines,
and ascribe to his arguments an incontestable
superiority over the arguments on the other side;
and yet their own philosophy, when they have
occasion to deliver it freely, is utterly anti-platonic,
and disregards the arguments which Plato
considers as irresistible.
Thus in weighing the doctrine of Plato that
philosophers are the fittest men to rule the world,
we have to recollect, not only that he means by
philosophers those who cultivate an especial kind
of philosophy ; but also, that according to most
modern views, that part of such philosophy which
applies to Ethics and Politics does not possess the
certainty, permanence, and demonstrative force,
which Plato ascribes to it.
What Plato here says, in defence of his own
especial doctrine concerning Knowledge and Ideas,
is, I conceive, not a full and independent exposition
of the argument, such as might be given upon
a primary and principal occasion for such exposition
; but rather a reference to arguments previously
more fully delivered upon other occasions,
and supposed to be in a great degree known to
the persons whom he was addressing. This appears,
I think, in the brevity with which various
parts of the argument are treated ; in the reference
made to points to which the argument as here
given does not apply ; as when while talking of
the Idea of Beauty, imperfectly manifested in the
ordinary beautiful sights, the Idea of Right or
Justice is also maintained, which has no place in
such manifestation ; and especially in the expression
in which the Lover of Spectacles, who had
been spoken of as being practically a bastard kind
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 247
of philosopher, is again introduced as a theoretical
opponent, and spoken of ironically as " that excellent
person" (o xpno-TOs); and so also where he
speaks of this opponent being angry. Some of
these defects of connection I have, for the sake of
clearness, modified in the translation.
After the Socrates of the Dialogue has thus
explained that philosophers are those who have
true knowledge, and that true knowledge consists
in the knowledge of that which is permanent and
immutable, he proceeds still further to elevate the
character of his philosopher by showing what dispositions
he must have and what virtues he will
acquire. He is thus led to consider the generally
prevalent opinion, that philosophers are not well
fitted for the government of States, and to give
his explanation of the origin of this opinion; and
afterwards, to describe the proper culture of the
philosophical mind whose cause he thus advocates.
These subjects occupy the sixth Book.
" Well, Glaucon," said I, " who are philoso- Rep.
phers, and who are not, we have made out, though B. VI.
it has been rather a long business to do it. But § 1 .
we could not explain the matter adequately in a
briefer compass. We might perhaps have done
it better if that had been our only object, and if
we had not had to deal with this, merely as a
preparation for showing how right action and a
virtuous life differ from wrong doing and injustice.
And now for the consequences of this. Since philosophers
are those who can apprehend eternal and
universal truth, and since those whose thoughts
wander among the many and variable appearances
which offer themselves on every side are not philosophers,
which are the fitter to be rulers ? Those,
plainly, who can best preserve the laws and
248 THE REPUBLIC.
tutions of States. The question is, as if one
should ask whether the blind or those who can see
are the better fitted to keep anything. For are
not those just as if they were blind, who are really
destitute of the knowledge of absolute truth ; who
have no clear idea in their minds, those who cannot
refer to such an idea as an authentic written
document, and there read what is established as
right and good, and when it has been established,
keep it inviolate? Shall we make these the
guardians of law, and not rather those who know
the reality of things, and who have besides as
much practical knowledge as the others, and who
are not inferior to them in any ordinary virtue? If
this be so, they are equal in other things, and have,
as their peculiar preeminence, this real knowledge.
" We must then, as we said at first, consider
the dispositions which this character implies ; and
if it appears that these dispositions are also suited
to make them rulers, we must acknowledge that
they, and no others, ought to be the rulers of
states.
2 "Now we must in the first place allow that those
who have a disposition turned to philosophy are
eager for all kind of learning which may manifest
to them this kind of truth which is permanent
and eternal, and which is not variable according
as objects wax and wane. They must love such
truth in every shape, great and small, honoured
or despised, as we said before of the lovers of
beauty and power. And therefore we see that
there is another quality which they must have ;
namely, the love of truth—the hatred of falsehood
—the rejection of lies of every kind. Truth is
the close kindred of wisdom ; and the philosopher,
the lover of wisdom, must be a lover of truth also.
The philosopher then cannot be a lie-lover. He
OF PHILOSOPHERS AS POLITICIANS. 249
who is a lover of learning must, from his earliest
youth, show himself a lover of truth.
" Now when the desires tend strongly in one
direction, they are weaker in other directions, like
a stream which is drawn into a side channel. And
thus when they tend to the acquisition of knowledge,
they seek the pleasures of the soul especially
as such, and are comparatively indifferent to
the pleasures of the body. This must be the case
if any one is a lover of wisdom really, and not
merely in pretence. Such a one will be temperate.
Nor will he be a lover of money. For those things
on account of which money is eagerly sought may
be objects of desire to others, but not to him.
" Again : there is another point in which you
will see the character of a true philosopher. His
character will be large and lofty. How can any
narrow views find place in a soul which aspires
to embrace the whole expanse of things, human
and divine? His conceptions are so magnificent
that they include all time and all being : how then
can he regard human life as any great thing?
Such a one then cannot regard death as anything
dreadful. A. truly philosophical spirit can have
no touch of baseness or cowardice.
" Again, a well-regulated mind, free from covetousness,
from baseness, from presumption, from
fear, cannot be faithless or unjust.
" To determine then whether a mind is truly
philosophical, supposing the person to be advanced
beyond boyhood, you will consider whether it is
just and equitable, or self-seeking and lawless.
" And you will not neglect to consider whether
it is willing or unwilling to learn. For no one can
learn who finds no pleasure in learning, but considers
it as a toil and a trouble. Nor can he ever
acquire knowledge if he do not retain what he
250 THE REPUBLIC.
learns, but forthwith forgets it. In that case,
finding no result from his labour, he will hate
both himself and the employment. And thus we
3 cannot reckon an oblivious mind to be truly philosophical:
the philosophical mind must have a good
capacity of memory.
" Moreover a mind with no love of culture and
order can only tend to become ill-regulated. Truth
is closely related to order, shuns disorder. We
must seek then an orderly and graceful spirit, in
addition to other qualities, which shall have such
a natural bias, that it may easily be led to the idea
of real existences.
" And thus then we have taken a survey of
the necessary conditions, all connected with one
another, which belong to the soul that is to deal
with real existences fitly and fully. Now is there
anything to find fault with in a pursuit which can
only be followed by a mind which is of capacious
memory, fond of learning, graceful, loving, and
congenial with truth, with justice, with courage,
with temperance?"
Glaucon replies, " No, Socrates ; Momus himself,
the Genius of fault-finding, could find no
fault there."
" But," says Socrates, " it is to such minds,
completed by education and formed by age, that
we would commit the rule of states. Do not you
agree with me ?"
The claims of philosophers to rule the world
undoubtedly appeared to Plato, when presented in
this form, to have a great degree of plausibility.
Nevertheless, they were not likely to be at once
assented to, even by his disciples ; aware as they
must be, of the very great disfavour with which
such pretensions were looked upon by the greater
part of their countrymen ; and indeed the argil-
_
GORGIAS. 251
"But yet, Callicles, there is nothing which
prevents the powerful of the earth from being good
men; and very worthy of admiration are they when
they are so. For it is a difficult and a most laudable
thing when a man has full power to do wrong,
that he should live doing rightly. Few are they
who do this. But some such there have been,
both here and elsewhere, and I trust there will be
yet others. One there was celebrated even through
all Greece, Aristides, the son of Lysimachus (called
the Just); but the greater part of powerful men are
bad men.
"And so when such a man comes before Rha- 173
damanthus, he brands him and sends him to Tartarus,
to purgation or to punishment. But if he
sees a soul which has lived well and according to
truth, a private man's or any other, but especially
that of a philosopher, who attends to the real business
of life and does not meddle with extraneous
matters, he looks upon it with complacency and
sends it to the Islands of the Blessed. So judges
Rhadamanthus ; 1Eacus does the like, each holding
a wand ; and Minos sits apart looking on as
inspector, having a sceptre of gold, as Homer
says :
Holding a sceptre of gold, and judging Souls of Departed.'
"I, Callicles, believe this ; and make it my
aim that I may appear before my judge with my
soul sound and healthy. I put aside the honours
and objects of men in general. I aim at truth
alone : I try to live and I shall try to die, when
the time arrives, as virtuous as I can.
"And I exhort all men to do the same, so far 174
as my powers extend. I exhort you, as you have
exhorted me, to this life, to this conflict ; which
I say is worth all other conflicts: and I warn
252 GORGIAS.
you, as you have warned me, that you will not
be able to make your defence, when that day of
judgement comes which I have described ; but
when you come before ./Eacus, and he has you under
question, you will gasp and turn giddy ;—you
there, as I here ;—and perhaps some by-stander
may insult you, and smite you on the cheek.
"You think this is a mythe—you despise it as
an old woman's tale. One might despise it reasonably,
if we could find anything better and
truer. But now you see that you three, three of
the wisest men in Greece, you and Polus and Gorgias,
you are unable to prove that we ought to lead
any other life than such a one as will be of advantage
to us when we go to that place. On the contrary,
among so many opinions as we have discussed,
all the rest being refuted, this only remained
unshaken, that we are to avoid doing
wrong more than suffering wrong ;—that before all
things a man must study not to seem but to be a
good man ;—that the next good thing after being
good, is to be punished if one be in any way bad :
—that all arts of mere gratification for one's self
or for others, for the many or the few, are to be
shunned :—that we must use rhetoric, and every
other art, for good ends only.
175 " Take my advice : follow this course, by which
you will be happy living and dying, as our reasoning
shows. Let who will despise you as senseless,
and insult you as he pleases, and, forsooth, inflict
upon you that blow of ignominy of which you
have spoken. It will do you no harm, if you are
really good and virtuous, really a cultivator of virtue.
And then, when we have cultivated that, you
and I, we will set about politics, or whatever it
may be, quite certain to judge better then than we
can now. For it is a shame for us, being such as
REMARKS ON THE GORGIAS. 253
we are, we should give ourselves airs, as if we were
something great ;—we who cannot agree with ourselves
from one moment to another, even about
matters of the utmost importance, so profound is
our ignorance.
"Let us then follow the reasoning in which
we have been engaged, as a guide—which tells us
that this is the best course of life—in the practice
of justice and all other virtue to live and to die.
Let us follow this reasoning, and exhort others to
do the same; not that reasoning which y ou exhort
me to follow : for that, 0 Callicles, is nothing
worth."
REMARKS ON THE GORGIAS.
THERE is no difficulty about the dramatic period of the
Gorgias. Gorgias, who was probably not more than twenty
years older than Socrates, and lived to a very advanced age,
might easily meet him at Athens. The Dialogue is supposed to
be held some time after the death of Pericles (a. 0. 429), who
is reckoned among the ancient statesmen, and before the death
of Alcibiades (a. c. 404), who is spoken of as one of the present
ones. Athenus (xvr. p. 5o5) mentions some circumstances
connected with Gorgias. He says that when he had read this
Dialogue, he said to his friends, "What a great satirist Plato
is I" And again, when Gorgias went to Athens, after he had
placed a golden statue of himself as an offering in the temple at
Delphi, Plato said, when he saw him, "So the beautiful golden
Gorgias is come!" to which Gorgias replied, "Athens, too, has
produced a beautiful new Archilochus ;" referring to the bitter
satirist of that name.
The first part of this Dialogue is on the subject of Rhetoric,
one of Gorgias's greatest accomplishments. We are told by
254 REMARKS ON THE GORGIAS.
ancient authors that his style was artificial and over-carefully
balanced. It so happens that we have, preserved to us in an
ancient Scholiast, a specimen of his composition, of which I shall
quote a portion, to exemplify the manner of the school against
which Plato directed his attacks. It is a portion of a funeral
oration, a very favourite kind of rhetorical exercise among the
writers of that time.
GORGIAS'S FUNERAL ORATION.
"What did these men lack which men ought to have; or
what was there in them which men ought not to be ? I might
say what I choose, but I rather choose to say what I ought ;
shrinking from a tempting of providence, shunning the envy of
men. For these men had virtues divine, but a mortality which
was human; they preferred reasonable equity to rigorous justice,
and the precision of law to the rigid rules of language; thinking
this the most divine and universal rule—for doing and for speaking
and for abstaining—the right thing in the right place ; and
practising the two best things which can be, the wisdom which
plans and the skill which executes ; thus becoming the helpers
of those who suffer by wrong, the punishers of those who flourish
by wrong."
Polus of Agrigentum, who accompanied Gorgias to Athens,
and is represented in the Dialogue as an admiring pupil of his,
was also noted for his balanced style, of which we have a quotation
or imitation in the Dialogue itself, section 5. The main
argument held with Polus is, however, about right and wrong,
good and bad ; and here he is represented as so completely
defeated that Callicles rushes in to the rescue.
Callicles, as Mr Grote has observed, is not a " Sophist" in the
technical sense of the term. He defends the immoral philosophy
which we express by the phrase Might is Right. That such an
immoral philosophy prevailed in Greece, and was especially asserted
at Athens, we can show from the history of the time :
and this current assertion of an immoral philosophy was felt,
I conceive, by Plato as an especial call to establish, if it might
be, a moral philosophy on solid grounds.
REMARKS ON THE GORGIAS. 255
Among many less marked instances of the prevalence among
the Greeks of an immoral philosophy asserting Might to be
Right, we may take as a very conspicuous example the celebrated
Melion Controversy, given in the fifth book of Thucydides. In
that passage, the assertion that Might is Right, and the reply to
the pleas which such an assertion evokes, are given in a form
curiously dramatic. I will state some of the points of the controversy.
In the course of the Peloponnesian war, the Athenians, having
become masters of the sea, resolved to conquer the island of
Melos, one of the Cyclades, a colony of Lacedtemon. They sent
an armament thither which summoned the Melian people to surrender,
and to become a subject-ally of Athens. The proposition
was, according to Thucydides, discussed between the Council of
the Melians and the Envoys of Athens ; and the arguments, or
rather, the declarations of their principles of conduct by the
Athenian Envoys, with the replies of the Melians, are given in
the form of a dialogue. This dialogue, if we suppose, with the
most eminent modern historians, that it is in its actual form
not an exact account of what really passed, but a composition
of Thucydides, must still be supposed to be a composition in
which the historian presents the principles of action which the
Athenians professed on that and similar occasions. And the
principles thus professed are the doctrines of those who refuse
to treat the relations of contending parties on the grounds of
justice :—who put forwards power as its own justification, and
who present interest as the only intelligible ground of action.
The Athenians say, that they reject all appeals to justice as distinct
from political expediency, because they wish to prevent
a waste of words. They say that justice, in the reasonings of
mankind, is settled according to compulsion on both sides. The
strong do what their power allows, the weak submitting to it. The
Melians in reply urge that even justice, however little cared for
on its own account, may be recommended by its expediency :—
that it is not expedient for Athens to break down the common
moral sanction of mankind, but to retain a reputation for justice
and equity. The dialogue goes on in the same strain, the Melians
urging grounds of equity, and the Athenians refusing to recognize
any ground of action but power. The conference did not
256 REMARKS ON THE GORGIAS.
go beyond this point. The Melians refused to submit. The
Athenians stamped the reality of their professed principles upon
the island in the most bloody characters. They took the city,
put to death all the males, and sold the women and children as
slaves. It was plain that the cruel doctrine which was declared
by the Athenian envoys in the Melian conference had a strong
and practical hold upon the Grecian mind ; and that so far, an
immoral philosophy was already predominant in Greece. And so
far as the prevalence of such an immoral philosophy could give
occasion to the formation of a moral philosophy which should,
if possible, correct and condemn injustice, violence, and cruelty,
it is evident that the occasion was there ; and that if there could
arise a moral philosopher who could prove such exercise of power
and such disregard of equity to be a monstrous violation of the
order of the world, the time was come, and the man was
needed.
But it may be said that the domination of violence and the
disregard of justice have been prevalent in all ages; and that
this conduct of the Athenians towards the Melians, however unjust
and cruel, may be paralleled in all times, even in the most
modern ; and that therefore there is nothing in such an event to
mark a peculiar epoch, or a peculiar stage of progress, in ethical
speculation. The historian who has most recently narrated the
tyrannical bearing of the Athenians towards the Melians has,
probably with the wise and virtuous purpose of making the story
convey a moral to his own countrymen, and of warning us against
supposing the England of our day vastly superior in public morality
to the Athens of the Peloponnesian war, noted, as not unlike
the language of the Athenian Envoys, the language of the English
Envoy to the court of Denmark ; the Envoy, namely, who in 1807
demanded the surrender of the Danish fleet into the custody of
England, under the menace of the bombardment of Copenhagen,
which afterwards took place. When the Prince Regent of Denmark
expressed indignation at this demand, the English Envoy
answered that "War was war ; that people must make up their
minds to what was inevitable, and that the weaker must yield
to the stronger." Certainly this language comes very near to
that of the Athenians at Melos. And instead of attempting to
draw any distinction in the two cases, as might perhaps fairly
REMARKS ON THE G ORGIAS. 257
be done, we shall do better to acknowledge that such language,
used at any time, belongs to a very low standard of political
morality. But still we may venture to say, that such sentiments
as those expressed by the Athenians, and their currency at that
time, were among the principal occasions which gave rise to the
moral philosophy of Plato and his contemporaries. The indications
that this was the case, cannot be mistaken. Plato expressly
condemns, as a cruelty which ought to be abolished, the practice
of Greeks, even in war, making slaves of Greeks. And with
regard to another of the classes of political events which forced
into notice the question, What are we to say of successful and
triumphant injustice? namely, the successful attempts of criminal
usurpers, Tyrants, as they were usually termed, he again and
again employs himself in proving that they are not really successful--
that they are not happy—that they are not to be envied
—that the just man, the virtuous man, however apparently
depressed by adverse fortune, is superior to these purpled criminals.
Whether or not we may regard his arguments on this
subject as satisfactory,—his reasonings as convincing,—at any
rate, this is one of the points which he most earnestly and assiduously
sets himself to prove. It is the key-note of some of his
most laboured and finished dialogues, as the Gorgias and the
Republic; and thus, in the prevalence of such spectacles of successful
wrong, and in the currency of such attempts to confound
right and wrong by the use of abstract terms and arguments—
in the prevalent manifestations, in short, of an immoral philosophy,
we see the occasion which led him to endeavour to construct
a true and solid moral philosophy.
In the various Platonic Dialogues we trace the author's system
of moral philosophy in various stages. In the Dialogues of
the Socratic school he proceeds upon the Socratic principle that
Virtue is Knowledge ; apparently believing that if this can be
established and applied, Virtue will have in itself the evidence
of its Obligation, as Knowledge has in itself the evidence of its
Truth. But in the Gorgias he does not adhere to the conception
of Virtue as a kind of Knowledge, but declares it to assist in
a certain Constitution of the mind ; a doctrine afterwards fully
unfolded in The Republic. In this view the obligation of Virtue
PLAT. II.
258 REMARKS ON THE GORGIAS.
is that Vice is a Disease of the mind, and therefore is necessarily
misery.
In translating the controversy held with CaHicks, I have
sufficiently criticized the arguments employed by Socrates to this
effect. Those which are addressed to Poing in the earlier part of
the Dialogue depend much, as I have there remarked, upon
relations of words which cannot now be exactly rendered.
Probably a step which was regarded as important by Plato is
the distinction of Arts into Arts aiming at mere gratification—
Kolctkic Arts, and Arts aiming at Good—Scientific Arts ; a distinction
which is employed to the disparagement of Rhetoric.
Callicles despises the Sophist as indicated by that name; but
yet the Gorgias must be regarded as the most elaborate and most
important of the Antisophist Dialogues ; meaning by that term
the Dialogues which are employed in urging the claims of Truth
and Philosophy against Rhetoric and Political Success. And it
was probably written soon after Plato, on returning from his
travels, established himself at Athens, with the purpose of pursuing
truth and teaching philosophy.
•
PHADRUS.
S2
Phcedrus or concerning the Beautiful is the title in the editions
of Plato ; but if there is to be a second title, it should be, or of
Love.
INTRODUCTION TO THE PII2EDRUS.
WHEN, at Athens, a man of acknowledged
ability, culture, and knowledge of the world
put himself forwards to cultivate and instruct the
minds of his countrymen, and especially of young
men, as Plato did on resuming his residence there
after his travels, the first question which occurred
was, Why do you not take for the principal subject
of your instruction, eloquence, and especially
political eloquence, the mistress of public bodies
and of private persons ;—the accomplishment which
alone can give security, power, and honour?
To this Plato would answer, as we have seen
in the Gorgias, that he did not think it consistent
with the habits of mind and the moral principles of
a philosopher to take a share in politics, as states
were then governed.
But if this repudiation of public life and public
oratory were conceded to Plato's peculiar views
and feelings, a further question might be asked.
Written composition as well as oratory was now
much cultivated at Athens. The masters of this
art not only taught their pupils and admirers to
make speeches, but wrote speeches for them,—composed
orations which others were to deliver. And
this was done with regard to private as well as public
affairs : Essays or Declamations were written on
imaginary lawsuits, such as we have in Quintilian,
or on hypothetical social questions, as we find in
262 INTRODUCTION TO THE PHIEDRUS.
the Phwdrus, to which Dialogue we now proceed.
Granted, Plato,s critics might say, that you are
right in not involving yourself in politics : still
there are other kinds of composition in which some
of your contemporaries have distinguished themselves.
Lysias and Isocrates are admired as beautiful
writers. Others have not only given exam
ples but rules and precepts for such writing.
Ought not you to show yourself at least able to do
something of this kind? Can you write speeches
such as Lysias writes? Can you give rules of
composition, and criticisms of admired writers as
others do ? If you are to take a leading place in
the literary world of Athens, you ought to show
that you can do this. If you decline such a trial,
you must expect that the public will not regard
your assertions that you are a philosopher and that
your adversaries are sophists.
To such a challenge as this, the Pliwdrus is a
reply. Phmdrus is an ardent admirer of Lysias
and his compositions, and Socrates, who is always
the organ of Plato,s sentiments in the Dialogues,
thus accosts him.
PEUEDRUS.
SOCRATES. "My dear Phaedrus, whence came
you and whither go you?"
PEIEDRITS. " From Lysias the son of Cephalus,
Socrates. And I go to take a walk outside
the wall of the city : for I have been sitting in the
room a long time, ever since daybreak. And I
am going to follow the advice of our common
friend, Acumenus, [the physician,] and to take my
walk on the high-road ; he says that it is more
refreshing than the exercising grounds."
Soc. "He says well, my friend. So Lysias
it seems was in the city." PH. "Yes, he was
staying with Epicrates, in that house called 1VIorychia,
which is near the temple of Olympian Jupiter."
Soc. "And what was the nature of the
party ? of course Lysias was regaling you with his
compositions." PH. "You shall hear, if you have
leisure to go along with me, and listen." Soc.
"What, man ! do you not think that, as Pindar
says, if I had not leisure, I should make it, to
hear the results of your and Lysias's studies ?"
PH. "Lead on then." Soc. "Now recite."
PH. "Well, Socrates, the subject of the discourse
was somewhat in your way, for it was on
the subject of Affection. A person is represented as
pleading very ingeniously that a cool and prudent
regard is more valuable than a passionate love."
264 PHIEDRUS.
We may suppose that a frigid and paradoxical
topic like this was taken as a subject by the writer
that he might exhibit his skill. We can imagine
what ingenious antitheses and conceits would have
been extracted from it by one of those whom
Johnson calls our "metaphysical poets," Cowley
or Donne, or Cleiveland. But the nature of the
subject does not much affect the parts of the Dialogue
which I shall translate.
Soc. "The generous-minded man ! I wish
he would prove that affection should be given to
a poor man rather than to a rich one ;—to an old
man rather than a young one ;—and to the qualities
which I and most of us have. Then his composition
would be pleasant and comfortable doctrine.
Why, I am so eager to hear, that if you
were to walk on and on as far as Megara, and then,
like Herodicus, touch the city-wall and come
back, I would not leave you."
3 PH. " What do you mean, good Socrates?
Do you think that what Lysias, the best writer of
our time, has composed in a long period of studious
leisure, an ordinary person like me can deliver by
memory in a worthy manner? That, I assure you,
is very far from being the case. I would give a
great deal to have it so."
Soc. "O Phwdrus, if I do not know what
Plimdrus's ways are, I shall forget to know myself'.
But neither the one nor the other will happen.
I know that he, when he was employed in hearing
Lysias's discourse, did not hear it once over only,
but requested to have it repeated to him again and
again: and Lysias readily consented. And still,
this was not enough for him, but at last he got the
manuscript, and looked at the passages which he
was most curious about. And then, having sat
from early morning, he went to take a walk. And
PHIEDRUS. 265
I believe, by my troth, knowing by heart the
composition, unless it was a very long one ; and
went outside the walls to think it over. And
there, meeting with a man who had an extraordinary
weakness for bearing compositions read or
repeated, and seeing him walking the same way,
was delighted to have a companion as enthusiastic
as himself: and when this lover of literature asked
him to recite, he pretended that he did not wish to
do so ; though in fact, if he had not found him a
willing listener, he would have forced him to hear.
So pray, Phmdrus, ask this person to oblige us,
which he will be sure to do."
PH. " Well, I see that my best plan is to
recite this composition as well as I may : for you
seem as if you would not leave me till I do it
some way or other." Soc. "I seem exactly as I
really am." PH. "I will then do so. For in
truth, Socrates, I did not learn the words exactly.
But I can state the sense of most of his arguments
from the beginning."
Soc. "But first, my dearest friend, let me see
what that is which you have in your left hand
under your cloak. I guess that it is the very discourse
itself. Now if it be, you must think of me
thus, that I love you very much : but that when
Lysias himself is here, I am not disposed to let
you practise your memory upon me instead of my
listening to him. So, come ; let me see it."
PH. "Stay, Socrates. You have given me
a great disappointment, Socrates. I wanted to
exercise myself upon you. Well, where shall we
sit down and read?" Soc. "Let us turn from
the road and go by the Ilissus : and there sit down
in any quiet place which we may find." PH. "It
was lucky, it appears, Socrates, that I came out
barefoot. You are always so. It is best to walk
266 PHADRUS.
along the course of the river, in the water ; and
very pleasant in this hot weather and at this hot
time of the day." Soc. "You go first, and look
out a place where we may sit." PH. "Do you
see that very lofty plane-tree ?" Soc. "I see it."
PH. "There is shade, and a gentle breeze, and
grass to sit upon, whenever we choose our restingplace."
Soc. "Go to that place." PH. " Tell
me, Socrates, is not the place somewhere here
where Boreas is said to have carried away Orithyia
?" Soc. " Such is the story." PH. "And
is this the exact place? The water is pleasant
and pure and clear, and the place a fit one for
maidens to sport in." Soc. "This is not the
place, but two or three furlongs further down,
where we crossed towards the temple of Diana ;
and near there is an altar to Boreas
The idyl-like grace and sweetness of this introduction
has often been admired ; but the reader will
easily suppose that the Dialogue soon takes a turn
to other matters, more especially belonging to the
Socratic field of thought. Phaedrus asks Socrates
if he believes the tale of Boreas. Socrates says
it might be possible to give a rationalizing account
of it, as some of the philosophers of that time were
disposed to give of many of the old mythological
fables ; adding :
"It might be that the damsel was blown by
the north wind over the brink of a precipice, and
so the story arose of her being carried away by
Boreas. But," he says, "if we set about giving
such explanations, we shall give ourselves endless
trouble and difficulty. We must explain what is
the true account of the Centaurs, made up of Man
and Horse, and of that monstrous Chimaera, and
those terrible Gorgons, and the winged horse Pegasus,
and numerous other monsters. If a man
PHADRUS. 267
chooses to use his mother wit in giving the most
probable shape to each of those stories, he will
have plenty to do. For my own part," says Socrates,
" I have not time for this. And the reason
of this want of leisure, my friend," he adds, "is
this ; I have not yet solved the problem of the
Delphian inscription, Know thyself; and it appears
to me absurd, when I do not yet know that, to
speculate about extraneous things. So I leave
such matters alone, and believe in what is established
by law ; and, asdIhIaove nsaoidt,
inquire about other creatures, but about myself.
I examine whether I am some strange monster,
with more shapes than Typhon, and more
savage ; or whether I am a milder and simpler
animal, participant of a divine and intelligent
nature. -But, my friend, while we speak thus,
are we not come to the tree to which you were
leading ?"
PH. "This is the very place."
Soc. "By Jupiter, it is a pleasant retreat. It 9
is a very high and wide-spreading tree and the
space is lofty and shaded in by beautifu l shrubs,
and is full of the fragrance of the herbs below, so
that it is most agreeable. And here is a most
beautiful rivulet flowing under the tree, of very
cold water, as one may feel with the foot. By the
images which are here, it seems to be a fountain of
the Nymphs and Achelous. How lovely and
sweet is the air of the place ! and it has a shrill
summery sound with the chirp of the grasshoppers.
And the grass slopes most conveniently for one to
lay one's head on, and seems to greet us as welcome
strangers."
PH. " Why, you wonderful man, you are talk- 10
ing rather oddly : really, as you say, you are like
a stranger, and not like an inhabitant of the place.
268 PHEDRUS.
You never go into foreign parts to see sights, and
scarcely ever go beyond the city-walls."
Soc. "Excuse me for that, my excellent friend;
I am fond of learning something, and the hills
and the trees cannot tell me anything, but the
men in the city can. But you have found the way
to cure me of my home-keeping propensities. As
men lead cattle onwards by holding some food or
fruit before their noses, so you lure me on with
the discourse which you have in your book there,
and, for aught I know, will lead me all round
Attica, or where you please. Now that we are
here, I will lie down, and do you take what attitude
you please, and read to me. "Listen."
This, the reader will perceive, sounds like the
beginning of a day of literary enjoyment of two
friends in the open air ;—a sort of May-day among
the Muses ; and so it is treated. Socrates and
Phmdrus banter each other in the style that we
have heard ; for Pheedrus also is allowed his turn
in this game. They quote and improvise, and criticize
and jest ; and Socrates gives a mythe about
the grasshoppers (§ 91), and says that these creatures
would laugh at them and despise them if they
could not keep themselves awake through the noon
with their own conversation. Socrates delivers discourses
of various kinds as examples of what composition
may be. First, one in plain prose like that of
Lysias. Then one in a sort of ornate poetical style,
which he says sounds like a Dithyrambic, and
which is preceded by an invocation of the Muses.
And then one in a more elevated poetical strain,
which he calls a palinode or retraction of his blasphemy
against Love—full of strange mythology
and strange metaphysics, and mythical visions of
the nature of the soul and its destiny. In this
part occurs the celebrated image of the Human
PHIEDRUS. 269
Soul as a charioteer drawn in its car by two
horses, one white, one black ; one of a good, the
other of an evil temper : these horses represent
Reason and Desire, and the task of the charioteer
who has to make them run together is hard.
I will translate this, or at least, portions of it, as
best I may ; and first we are to listen to Phaedrus
reading the Discourse of Lysias on the stated
theme.
THE DISCOURSE OF LYSIAS. 11
"And thus you are informed of the state in
which I am, and you have heard my petition for
that which would I think be good for me. Nor
do I think it reasonable that I should fail in my
request, on that account, that I am not a lover.
For Lovers will repent of any good office they
render you, as soon as the fervour of desire is
past: but such friends as I am, never come to a
time when they have reason to repent : for they
do good offices not by any compulsion' but spontaneously
; they do good offices as far as their
power reaches, according to their judgment of
their own circumstances. Further : Lovers often
reflect how much they have neglected their own
affairs on account of their love, and what benefits
they have conferred : and reckoning the labour
they have bestowed upon their pursuit, they consider
that they have done all that the object of
their love can claim. But those who are not
lovers can make no such excuse of neglect of their
private affairs, nor the enmity of relatives which
they have incurred : and thus so many causes of
mischief being removed, they have nothing to
think of but how most readily they may do all
which may gratify the person in question.
He then proceeds to argue that Lovers are in- 12
constant.
270 PlUEDRUS.
13 That those who are not in Love will be less
elated with success.
14 That the Non-lover will be less suspected.
15 That Friendship is less liable to take offence.
16 That Friendship is more desirable than Love.
17 That Lovers are more to be pitied than envied.
18 That Affection may exist without Desire, as
we see in Parents, Children, Brothers.
19 That to urge that it is right to show favours
to those who most need them is not a valid argument.
We do not ask beggars to our tables, but
friends. And then he sums up these arguments.
20 "And so you should bestow your favours, not
on those who need them most, but on those who can
best give something in return : not on those who
love most, but on those who are most worthy :
not to those who love your youth only, but to
those who will share their possessions with you
when you are grown older : not to those who as
friends show their jealousy of favours shown to
others, but to those who modestly are silent to all :
not to those whose affection is but for a season,
but to those who will be the same through life :
not to those whom, after desire is gratified, will
seek excuses for estrangement, but to those who
when the season of desire is fled, will then show
their good qualities.
21 "Bear this in mind, 0 thou whom I address :
and recollect that Lovers are perpetually assailed
by the remonstrances of friends, telling them that
Love is full of danger : but no one was ever
rebuked for not loving, nor has their want of love
ever been supposed to be a dangerous thing.
"And so I think I have said enough to convince
you ; but if you have to ask, what you
think I have omitted, ask on."
22 Pit. "How does it seem to you, Socrates?
PILEDRUS. 271
Is it not admirable, both in other respects, and as
to the style?"
I have so little confidence in the reader being
of Pheadrus's opinion, that I have omitted a great
part of this discourse. It will probably be regarded
by most English readers as a paradox without
even the grace of much ingenuity. At a later
period of the Dialogue it is criticized by Socrates.
Here he gives it ironical praise.
To Phdrus's question how it pleases him,
Socrates replies :
"Wonderfully, my dear Phwdrus : so that I 22
am transported out of myself. Indeed you contributed
to that effect ; for I saw the joy you had
in the composition while you were reading it.
And, thinking you a better guide than myself in
such matters, I allowed myself to be carried away
by a sympathy of admiration with your dear self.'
PH. " Well, well ! I see you are jesting."
Soc. "Do you not think I am in earnest ?"
PH. " Not at all. But in the name of Friend
ship, do you think that any other man in Greece
can say finer things and more of them, on the same
subject?"
Soc. " Stay : let us know what we are talking 23
about. Are we to praise your author because he
has said what he ought to say, or merely for
having put what he has said into clear, neat, wellturned
language? If we are to consider the substance,
I must take it on your authority, for such
is my stupidity that it escaped me altogether. I
attended only to the rhetorical skill displayed in
the piece, and with that, to tell the truth, I
thought that even Lysias himself could hardly be
satisfied. I thought, Phaedrus, if you will allow
me to say so, that he said the same thing two
or three times over, as if he had not any great
272 PHIEDRUS.
fertility in producing many views of the same subject:
or perhaps he did not care for such repetition.
Indeed he appeared to me to have a sort of vanity
in showing that he could say the same thing in
different ways, and each very well."
PH. "You are all wrong, Socrates. That is
exactly the merit of the composition, that he has
said everything which belongs to the subject and
is worthy to be said, omitting nothing : so that no
one can add to what he has said anything more or
anything better."
Soc. "In that I am unable to agree with you.
If I should, out of complaisance, agree to what
you say, there are among the ancients wise men
and wise women who have spoken and written
on such subjects, and who will prove me to be
wrong."
24 PH. "Who are they ? And where have you
found anything of theirs better than this ?"
Soc. "I cannot tell you exactly : but it may
have been in the beautiful Sappho, or the sage
Anacreon, or even some of the prose-writers." PH.
"What makes you think so ?' Soc. "I will tell
you. I feel that at present my heart is full of things
beyond those which I have just heard, and not
worse than those. And that these do not come
from myself I well know : I am too conscious of
my own incapacity. It remains then that I must
have received from foreign fountains this stream
with which I overflow. And yet such is my stupidity
that I cannot now recollect how and from
whom I heard these things."
This promise of a rival essay to be delivered
by Socrates, is eagerly caught at by Pliwdrus, according
to the Athenian spirit.
25 PH. " My excellent friend, you speak charmingly.
Whence and how you heard those things,
PH1EDRUS. 273
I do not ask you tell me : but do that which you
say. Do you engage to produce finer things
and not fewer than those which are in this
written composition, not repeating those : and I
engage, as the nine archons do when they undertake
their office, that if you succeed I will
place in the temple at Delphi a golden statue
the size of life ; or rather two, one of you and
one of me."
Soc. "You are an invaluable friend, Phdrus;
and you are better than gold, if you suppose me to
say that Lysias has missed all the points of his
subject, and that I can treat the same subject without
repeating anything which he has said. I suppose
the very worst writer could hardly make such
a miss as that. And with regard to this particular 26
case, do you suppose that any one, having to urge
that you are to favour one who is not a Lover
rather than one who is, should pass by those points,
the praise of prudence and the blame of imprudence,
which are inevitable topics, and should
excogitate other different ones. Of course you
must allow him those ; and in them the merit
must be, not the invention, but the management;
but in others less obvious you may praise the invention
as well as the management."
PH. "I agree to what you say : you talk
reasonably. Well, I will allow you to assume
that a man in love is more out of his senses than a
man who is not : and now you are to say more and
finer things than Lysias has said : and then I will
set you up in gold at Olympia to stand by the
colossal statue of Jupiter which the Cypselids
offered."
Soc. " You take the matter seriously, Phx- 27
drus. I only wanted to tease you by attacking
your favourite. Do you really think that I can
PLAT. II.
274 PH/EDRUS.
attempt to say anything which shall stand a comparison
with his cleverness?"
PH. " Ah ! you are now brought into the
same scrape in which I was a little while ago.
No. You must speak a speech as best you can ;
if you do not wish to make me repeat a scene so
frequent in comedies, and to return to you what
you said to me, word for word. Do not compel
me to say', 0 Socrates, if I do not know Socrates's
ways I shall forget myself: he desires to make a
speech, but he is coy. Know that we depart not
hence before you have uttered what you said you
had in your breast. We are alone in a desert
place. I am the younger and the stronger.
Agree to what I propose, and do not compel me to
have recourse to violence."
28 Soc. "But, Phiedrus, I shall make myself
ridiculous if, stupid as I am, I compete with a
great writer on his own subject."
PH. "I will tell you what : if you do not
make an end of your excuses, I will say a word
which will force you to speak."
Soc. "Then pray do not say it."
PH. " Yes : I will say it. I will swear a
mighty oath. I swear to you—by whom, by what
god shall I swear ?—shall I swear by this planetree?
Yes : if you do not deliver me your speech
in its presence, I will never repeat to you any discourse,
any composition, of any one."
Soc. " Ah ! you malicious man ! How well
you know the charm to bind to your will a man
so fond of discourses as I am."
PH. "Now, what further excuse have you?"
Soc. "None. As you have sworn, it must be
done. How could I deny myself so great a luxury
as you threaten to take away ?"
See § 3.
PHIEDRUS. 275
PH. "Speak on then."
Soc. "I will tell you what I will do."
PH. " What is it?"
Soc. "I will cover my head with my mantle
while I speak, and run through the speech as fast
as I can, that I may not catch your eye, and be
put out by my bashfulness."
PH. " Only speak. For the rest do as you
like."
SOCRATES, IN OBEDIENCE TO PHJEDRUS (see § 4(3).
"Aid me, ye Ligyan Muses. 29
"Aid me to raise the mythic strain which this
excellent man compels me to utter, that his companion,
ever before by him deemed wise, may so
be deemed yet more.
"There was once a boy, say rather a youth,
beautiful exceedingly. Many were his Lovers ;
but one of them a subtle spirit, loving him not
less than the othrse, persuaded the youth that he
loved him not ; and once when he sought his favour,
tried to persuade him that he ought to grant it
rather to one who loved him not than to one who
loved him. And thus be said :
"Beyond all other ways, 0 fair boy, is there
this especial way to take good counsel ;—namely,
to know what that is concerning which you deliberate
; which unknown, you needs will aim quite
awry. And yet how few are there who are aware
that they know not the essence of each thing.
And so they proceed as if they knew. They put
the matter incoherently at the beginning of their
inquiry : and as they go on they run into inconsistency,
as may be expected, with themselves and
with others. Let not thee and me fall into this
error which we thus blame in them. But since
P2
276 PlUEDRUS.
the question with us is, whether you are to grant
your Friendship to a Lover rather than to one
who is not so, let us begin by defining clearly and
in agreement with ourselves, what Love is, and
what is its power : and then let us found our
inquiry on this our definition, and examine whether
Love is the source of Good or Harm.
30 "Now that Love is a kind of Desire is plain
to all ; but that those who love not, yet desire certain
things, we know. How then shall we distinguish
the Lover and him who is not one?
"We must recollect that there are in each of
us two Ideas which rule and lead us, and whom
leading we follow : the one an instinct, the Desire
of Pleasure ; the other an acquired Opinion, which
aims at Good. And these two Principles sometimes
are in agreement, sometimes are at variance :
and when at variance, sometimes the one, sometimes
the other prevails. When the Opinion which
acting by Reason draws us to Good prevails, we
call it Sophrosyne, Self-Control: when the Principle
which irrationally draws us towards Pleasure
governs in us, we call it Hybris, Uneontrol. Now
this Uncontrol has many names, as it has many
kinds and many divisions.
31 "And of these kinds when any is conspicuous
in any one, it stamps him with a cognate name ;—
no honoured or fair names are they. When the
desire of eating overcomes the rational love of
food, it is gluttony : the man is a glutton. When
the desire of drink tyrannizes, we know what the
man is called ; (namely a drunkard) ; and so when
any of the desires, the sisters of these, rules, we
have an appropriate designation ready.
32 "And thus the irrational desire which tends
to beauty, when it overmasters the Opinion which
tends to Good, and is corroborated by the kindred
-
TIT /EMUS. 277
desires, it is Love ; (and is called Eros from the
Strength (Rome) it thus receives)."
Socrates here interrupts himself, and says :
"My dear Phmdrus, do you observe, as I observe,
that an extraordinary thing has happened to
me?"
Pll. "Yes, indeed, Socrates ; you are becom
very unusually fluent."
Soc. "Therefore listen to me in silence : for
of a truth the place does seem to breathe inspiration.
So that if, as I go on, I am transported by
the Nymphs of the locality, you are not to wonder.
I am very nearly uttering dithyrambics."
And now for the sequel, Love being thus
defined.
He then goes on to urge the usual topics against 33
surrendering ourselves to the dominion of Love, as
at variance with self-guidance, with philosophy,
with family ties: and still more incongruous if there 40
be a disparity of years. The person addressed is
warned against Lovers by considerations such as
might be employed in a like exhortation among
us at present. Such was the tone of Athenian
conversation, and in this strain is the rest of
this composition, and so it continues to the end.
The object of the address is warned against giving
the affections to a Lover who will after awhile become
faithless, capricious, jealous : whose society
will then be both disagreeable and hurtful : hurtful
in many ways, and especially in the way of preventing
the culture of the soul, "than which nothing
more precious is or can be in the sight of men
and gods. These things, 0 young person, lay to
heart, and reflect that the addresses of a Lover flow
not from affection, but from a kind of appetite :
Lovers love with a love like the love of the wolf for the
lambkin.'
278 PHIEDRUS.
41 "And there is what I have to say, Plimdrus.
You will hear no more ; for that is the end."
PH. "I thought it was only the middle.
You ought to have a second part, setting forth the
merits and claims of the non-lovers. Why do
you stop, Socrates ?"
42 Soc. "Do you not perceive, my dear friend,
that I am no longer uttering dithyrambics, but am
sunk down to hexameter. If I undertake a panegyric,
assuredly the Nymphs, to whose intoxicating
influence you purposely exposed me, will
drive me mad. Of course the good that is to be
said of the one is just the opposite of the bad
which was said of the other. And so I will wade
the river and go away, before you do anything
worse to me."
PH. " Do not do that, Socrates, while it is so
hot as it is. Do you not see that it is High Noon,
as they call the time of greatest heat? Let us sit
and talk a little about what we have been saying,
and go away when the heat has somewhat
abated."
Soc. "You are a wonderful man for your
love of literary discussion, Phmdrus !—something
quite superhuman. I do not think any body has
been the cause of so many pieces of composition
as you have, including what you have made yourself
and what you have induced others to make.
Of course I except Simmias the Theban."
We have seen in the Phado that Simmias was
a very eager hearer of Socrates. This occupation
of listening to literary exercises, such as those here
given, and then criticizing them, which both Socrates
and Phaedrus are represented here as enjoying
so much, is not likely to have the same charm
for the English reader ; and therefore I have
abridged these exercises, and only given specimens
PlUEDRUS. 279
of them. But the subject of this Dialogue is not
merely such exercises and. such criticisms. It is
intended also to convey, in a highly poetical form,
some of the leading points of the Platonic philosophy.
For this purpose Socrates utters another
lyrical strain on the subject of Love, which is thus
introduced : he goes on :
"And now you are likely to be the cause of
another discourse."
PH. "I do not regard that as a declaration of
war, but as an announcement of something very
pleasant. But how is it so?"
Soc. "When, my dear friend, I was going to 43
cross the stream, the accustomed sign of my Divine
Monitor stopt me. You know it is constantly interfering
when I am going to do anything—and I
seemed to hear a voice which forbids me to depart
before I have cleared my conscience, which appears
to have a load upon it. I am dull in spelling out
the meaning of such notices, but I see now what it
means. I had twinges while I was speaking, and
like the Poet Ibycus,
'I fear'd the Gods might that condemn
Which blinded men admire."
He then goes on to say that he was afraid he 44
had been guilty of an impiety against the Divinity
of Love, in speaking as he had done, against the
influence of love. He says that this offence is to
be expiated by a Palinode, a poetical retractation,
of which there was an ancient example given by
the poet Stesichorus. He, as a punishment for
having spoken ill of Helen, was by her influence
struck blind ; and. wiser than Homer was, he perceived
the cause of his calamity, as a favourite of
the Muses might do ; and repaired his fault by
these verses :
280 PI-I2EDRUS.
'Not true is that discourse we held of yore.
Ne'er didst thou mount the lofty Trojan ships,
Or seek the towers of Pergamos.'
And when he had uttered this Palinode, he forthwith
recovered his sight. And so, I will be even
more prudent than he was ; before Love does me
any harm, I will propitiate him by uttering a Palinode,
not as before, hooded in my mantle, but with
head uncovered."
45 PH. "You could not tell me anything more
agreeable."
Soc. "You must see the extreme impropriety
of our two former discourses, both mine and that
which you read from the scroll. Any one of
good breeding and good character who knew what
real love was, when he heard us speaking of love
being for slight causes turned into jealousy and
dislike, would suppose that we had wholly lived
among common sailors, and never knew what a
generous and sincere affection was. So I shall try
to sweeten the sour things which I said, and I
recommend Lysias to do the same."
46 PH. " Depend upon it he will, if you lead the
way."
Soc. "I believe that he will, for you are the
man to make him do it."
PH. "Now say on."
Soc. "But where is the youth [the imaginary
object] whom I addressed? Let him listen to me
again before it is too late."
PH. " He is here, and will listen."
Soc. "0 beautiful boy, bear this in mind.
The former discourse which I delivered was that
of Phdrus the son of Pythocles, a man of the
Myrrhinos quarter in Athens ; that which I am
about to deliver is that of Stesieliorus, the son of
Euphemus, of Himera in Sicily."
PHADRUS. 281
SOCRATES IN IMITATION OF STESICHORUS : A
PALINODE OF HIS BLASPHEMY AGAINST
LOVE.
"Not true is that discourse which says that
the Beloved One should show favour rather to one
who loves not than to the Lover, because this one
is in a phrensy, and that a sober man. For if to 47
be in a phrensy were simply and always an evil,
that might be truly said : but it is not so ; the
greatest blessings which men receive, come through
the operation of phrensy, when phrensy is the gift
of a deity. The prophetess at Delphi and the
priestesses at Dodona,—many are the benefits which
in their phrensies they have bestowed upon Greece;
but in their hours of self-possession few or none.
And too long were it to speak of the Sibyl and
others, who, inspired and prophetic, have delivered
utterances beneficial to the hearer. Indeed this 48
word phrenetic, or maniac, is no reproach ; it is
identical with mantic, prophetic.
"And oft when diseases and plagues have fallen 49
upon men for the sins of their forefathers, some
phrensy too has broken forth and has pointed out
in prophetic strain how the sin might be expiated
and the gods appeased.
"And a third kind of phrensy, the inspiration
and possession which comes from the Muses, seizes
the tender and virgin soul ; and so transports it
that it utters itself in odes and poetic strains, and
adorns with its graces the deeds of ancient men,
and teaches those of its own generation. And he
who, untouched by the phrensy of the Muses,
ventures within the poetic doors, deeming that he
can be a poet in virtue of his Art alone, fails of
282 PII/EDRUS.
his aim ; nor can the poetry of one so calm bear
comparison with that which flows from the phrensy
of inspiration.
50 "So many and yet more great effects could I
tell you, of the phrensy which comes from the
Gods. And so let us not be affrighted by any fear
of this word phrensy, to think we must needs prefer
the calm to the phrenetic friend. The phrensy
of Love is the greatest blessing which the Gods
can give to the Lover and to the Beloved One.
"The proof of this, the seeming wise will reject,
but the truly wise will know its truth. And
therefore we must first rightly explain the nature
of the Soul human and divine, its passions and its
actions. And thus our proof begins.
51 "Every soul is immortal : for that which ever
moves, lives ever. That which is moved by another,
when it ceases to move, ceases to live. That
which moves itself, moves for ever, being its own
source of action, and the source and principle of
action in things which are moved by it. A principle
is not produced by something else. For all
that is produced must be produced by a principle,
but it from none. For if it were by aught produced,
a principle it were not.
52 "And since it is not produced, it also cannot
be destroyed. For if a principle were lost, it could
not spring again from aught, nor aught from it,
since all things spring from a principle. If the
principle which moves itself, the source of motion,
were to cease, all the heavens would stand still, and
the universe would fall together, and there could
be no source from which motion might again
begin.
53 "Since that vihich moves itself is thus immortal,
let us not hesitate to declare the nature of
the Soul [to be that it moves itself, and is therefore
PILEDRUS. 283
immortal]. For a thing that is moved from without
has no soul, but that which is moved from
within has a soul. The self-moving principle is
Soul, and the Soul is ungenerated and immortal.
"To speak of the Soul fully and worthily, we
should need a large and divine eloquence. To describe
it by comparison, a smaller and merely human
discourse may suffice : this let us give.
"The Soul is like a Charioteer who is drawn by 54
a pair of winged horses. Among the Gods the
charioteers and the horses are all faultless ; but
among men they are of mingled qualities. The
charioteer guides the pair ; one of the horses is of
good disposition and of good breed : the other the
reverse ; and thus the task of the charioteer is
hard."
He then proceeds to convert this image of the
soul into a mythe involving the relations of human
to divine souls. The divine souls travel ever in a
superior region. The human souls labour to
ascend into this region, but the evil steed which
is attached to the car drags them downwards in
their ascent, and often frustrates their attempts,
and involves them in lower forms of human life
and even of brutal life ; for the soul shifts from
body to body as evil life is finished. The felicity 60
which divine souls possess, and that to which
human souls aspire, is that of seeing the Truth ;
the field of Truth is the divine pasture of the
soul. It is by having seen the Truth, that man 62
resumes the human form in a second life. For
this purpose men must understand general propositions',
that which is by reason collected into our
Ideas from many Sensations2. And these are
1 Kar' Mos Xe76,cavov.
I eK roXXciv lay alo-07)crecoy els ty Xoyccri.uP tivatipOttevov.
284 PHIEDRUS.
what the mind recollects, as having seen when it
was journeying with the divine souls, and contemplating
real essences, and gazing down on the
being that really is.
63 "And thus we come to that point at which we
were aiming. The Soul recollects the reality of
Beauty which it has seen in its supernal travels ;
it tries to soar aloft towards it, but in vain, its
wings do not suffice ; it can only gaze upwards ;
and thus neglecting things below, it is held to be
frantic. This is the best of all the forms of phrensy:
the phrensy of the Lover of the Beautiful.
"Every human Soul has (in a previous state of
-existence) contemplated some of these real essences
(as that of Beauty); otherwise it would never have
been lodged in a human body. But all do not
recollect with equal ease these realities. Few recollect
them well ; but they who do, when they see
any resemblance of them here below, are transported
; are no longer masters of themselves : and
yet they cannot tell the cause of their emotion.
64 "Justice, and Purity, and the other precious
realities, of which our Souls acknowledge the value,
have no visible splendour when they are seen in
their images here below ; hardly, and in few instances
only, can men discern them with their
earthly organs. But Beauty, which we saw in that
happy region, in that gorgeous company, with our
then undimmed faculties, calmly shining in the
midst of a serene light, impressed itself more
strongly on our memory. We linger with delight
on the remembrance.
65 "Hence, when we are come hither, we discern
traces of it by the aid of the most piercing of our
1 avaKóifras ch r6 Sc Gran. So in § 58 he speaks of the soul
as seeing real Justice and real Self-control in its celestial travels.
See further on, p. 287.
PHADR us. 285
senses, the sight. Any of the real essences, in
themselves so loveable, would excite deep love in
us, if it could affect our sight and appear to us in
a visible image ; but to Beauty alone is allotted
that privilege, that it is both most visible and most
loveable.
"And thus he whose recollection of Divine 66
Beauty is not fresh, and whose Soul is corrupted,
is not easily drawn towards real Beauty here,
when he sees what here on earth bears the name of
Beauty. He has no reverence for it ; it excites in
him only brutal desire ; he has no shame nor selfcontrol.
But he whose memory of the heavenly
spectacles is still fresh and vivid, when he sees the
divine countenance of Beauty well imitated by an
earthly form, is first struck with awe, and his
ancient fear returns ; then he contemplates it and
reverences it as divine, and would worship it as a
god, if it were not that he would be deemed mad.
He burns like a man in a fever. The influence or 67
the effluence of Beauty sends into him a heat which
melts the gummy coatings which hindered his
wings to grow: the quills and feathers of his
pinions feel the vivifying warmth. And when that 68
beloved object is removed, the pores close, and the
growth of the wings is stopped, and the influences
which prompted them struggle in vain for issue ;
the Soul is tormented and agitated, and yet delighted
with the recollection of the Beauty which
has excited its emotions. It seeks sight of the 69
Beloved Object; it breathes again ; nothing is to it
so precious as the Beloved One : it forgets all,
father, mother, brothers, sisters, friends, companions:
it cares not for the wasting of goods ; it is
ready to be a slave, and to lie on the ground if it
may be near the Beloved Object. It can find no
physician but the Beautiful One."
286 PII/EDRUS.
"And this is Love."
70 (Then the different kinds of love are described
71 according to the different Gods, Jupiter, Mars,
72 Juno, Apollo, whom the Soul has followed in its
73 supernal circuit. The Lover tries to find in the
Beloved Object the qualities of the God, or to
educe them—the follower of Jupiter, a commanding
character ; of Juno, a royal spirit; and so of
the rest.)
74 "And thus the course to which true Love does
tend has a divine origin ; and is to the person
beloved a source of blessing and happiness conferred
by the Lover."
Returning to the chariot and horses, the one
75 is white and docile, the other black and perverse.
"When the charioteer sees an object which inspires
love, the better courser obeys the rein, the evil steed
minds nor spur nor whip, and rushes to sensual
76 pleasure unrestrained. A fierce struggle ensues
77 between the Charioteer and him, and he is finally
78 subdued."
79 Yet under certain circumstances the victory is
80 again lost.
81 "And then their Souls quit their bodies un-
82 winged, though with some feathers growing. They
83 have commenced the celestial journey ; they will
live a bright life with each other, with like wings,
for the sake of their love.
"Such great blessings 0 boy, and so divine,
will Love give you. While the intercourse of one
who loves you not, mingled with earthly prudential
thoughts, occupied by frivolous cares, produces
in the Soul of the Beloved Object a servile prudence,
which may be a virtue in the eyes of the •
multitude, but makes it wander destitute of the
light of reason, nine chiliads of years, revolving
round the earth, and under the earth.
PH2EDRUS. 287
"To thee, 0 Love, I dedicate this Palinode : 84
and beg thee to pardon me for my former strain.
Lysias is to blame. Turn him to philosophy, as
his brother Polemarchus has been turned ; that
Phwdrus here, who loves him, may give himself
to a love approved by philosophy."
This mythe is, as I have said, a celebrated part
of Plato's writings. The Charioteer with his two
steeds, the good and the bad one, represents man
with his springs of action, Reason and Desire,
which move him, and which he has to guide.
This image may be considered as a step towards
the account of the constitution of man given in
the Republic, where the principles of the soul are
stated as three, Reason, Desire, and Anger.
Another part of this mythe, bearing in an important
manner upon the Platonic philosophy, is
the representation of the soul as traversing celestial
regions before it is joined to the body ; and in those
regions acquiring a sense of the essences of things
which it retains afterwards, and which is the
ground-work of Reason in its highest sense. The
region in which these Essences or Ideas reside is described
in § 58 as the supercelestial' " The colourless,
formless, impalpable essence which really is
can be contemplated only by that Intuition (Nous)
which guides the Soul. In the region of this
Essence is the place of real knowledge. The
Divine Souls, and every Soul about to fulfil its true
destiny, when it sees that which is, loves it, and
rejoices to contemplate the Truth, as long as its
movement in its orbit permits it to do so. In the
course of its revolution, it sees Justice, it sees Self-
Control, it sees Knowledge, not as mutable things,
nor as attributes of what we call Beings, but the
ra inrepovpdpcov.
288 PHADRUS.
essence of each as it really is'. And having gazed
upon these and other real essences, and fed upon
them, the soul again enters the inside of the heavenly
sphere, and thus comes home."
After Socrates has delivered his Palinode, ending
with a wish that Phdrus may be fully possessed
by the love of philosophy, PhEedrus says,
"I wish that too, Socrates." But they then turn
to a discussion on the dignity of authorship, about
which Phaedrus has misgivings, and which Socrates
pretends to uphold by a whimsical argument.
PliTdrus praises the discourse of Socrates,
and says :
85 "I am afraid if Lysias tries to rival it, he will
appear mean, even if he make the attempt. But
I doubt whether he will do so. For not long ago,
my excellent friend, one of our political men made
his authorship a matter of reproach, and called him
a scribbler. So that perhaps he will, as a matter
of dignity, abstain from writing."
Soc. "That is quite absurd, young man. You
do your friend injustice, if you think that he is so
easily frighted with a word. Do you suppose that
he who thus reproached him was in earnest?"
86 PH. "It appeared that be was. And you
know very well, Socrates, that the most powerful
and dignified persons in each State are ashamed to
write discourses, and to leave written compositions
1 In the laborious manner in which Plato accumulates inflexions
of the verb to be—riy go-rw iv civrcos gricribunv
aaap—we see a tendency which has generally prevailed among
metaphysicians, and which in Latin gives currency to such
words as ens, esse, essentia, and the like.
The Platonic doctrine of Innate or Connate Ideas, as the
sources of Truth, is embodied in the mythological imagery of
the travels of the Soul through celestial and supercelestial
regions before its junction with the body. Apparently Plato
was of opinion that the construction of such mythes was quite
within the limits of the philosopher's privileges.
PH/EDEUS. 289
behind them; being afraid of being, in after times,
regarded as mere authors."
Soc. "There is a side of the subject which
you do not see, Phoedrus. What? Do you not
know that our great statesmen are most fond of
writing essays and leaving their compositions behind
them? And when they have written an essay,
they are so fond of having it praised, that they
write at the head of it the names of those who
praise it."
PH. "How do you mean ? 1 do not under- 87
stand you."
Soc. "Do you not know that in a politician's
composition, the name of his admirer is written at
the beginning of it?" PH. " How?"
Soc. "He writes thus : It seemed good to the
Senate, or to the People, or to both; on the motion of
such a one, naming himself very gravely, and with
terms of high praise. And then to show to his
admirers how clever he is, he often writes a long
essay: for is not such a production a written essay?"
PH. "It is."
SOC. " And if his essay stands, he goes home 88
as glad as the author of a successful play goes out
of the theatre : and if it be rejected or rescinded,
and he declared a bad writer of such essays, he is
in grief, and is condoled with by his friends. So
it is plain they do not despise, but aspire to this
art of writing. And when a man writes with such
power as Lycurgus, or Solon, or Darius did, and so
Is an immortal writer, is he not reckoned a sort of
god both by his contemporaries and by his readers
in after times?"
To all this, in successive sentences, Pimdrus
assents. It seems that Plato, though he did not
admire such writers as Lysias, would not allow
PLAT. II.
290 PHEDRUS.
them to be contemptuously treated by the politicians
whom he admired still less.
89 The two friends then go on to more detailed
criticisms, still enjoying their idyllic leisure. Socrates
goes on :
"No. It is not writing which is disgraceful,
but writing ill. And what is the art of ably writing
a political law or a literary essay, in verse or
in prose, shall we, Phaedrus, inquire of Lysias, or
of any one else?"
PH. " Shall we inquire, do you ask? What
do we live for, but to pursue such inquiries? Not
for the pleasures of the body, which are all mixed
with pain, and are justly called slavish pleasures."
90 Soc. "We have leisure for our inquiry, as it
seems. And the grasshoppers that chirp in the
heat over our heads seem to talk about us as they
sing and look down upon us. And if they were to
see us two doing as many do, not talking but
sleeping in the noon-day heat, and lulled by them
for want of thought in our own minds, they would
very rightly laugh at us, and think that we were
two slaves who are come to their place of resort,
at the fountain, to take their noon-day sleep like
cattle. But if they hear us conversing together, and
going on [like Ulysses] in spite of the songs of
these new Sirens, they will perhaps give us the
gift which the gods allow them to give to men."
PH. "What gift is that? I do not recollect
to have heard of it."
Soc. " Fie ! A lover of the Muses ought not
to be ignorant of such things. It is said that
these creatures were men before the Muses were in
existence. And when the Muses came into being
and music began to be heard, they were so transported
with delight, that they left off eating and
PH1EDRUS. 291
drinking, and went on singing till they died. And 91
so from that time the race of grasshoppers had this
gift bestowed upon them by the Muses, that they
have no need of food, but live without meat or
drink, and sing on and on till they die. And then
they go to the Muses, and each reports who is his
favourite among men that are here. To Terpsichore
they report those who excel in dancing, to
Erato, those who shine in love-poetry, and so on
in other matters : but to Calliope the eldest, and
her next sister Urania, those who occupy themselves
with philosophical conversation, and admire
their music : and their music is about the Heavens
and about Beauty [as the names Urania and Calliope
indicate]; so there is good reason to go on
talking, and not to go to sleep in the noon-day."
It is of course understood, that this pretended
mythe is really improvised by Socrates, in order
to supply a reason for continuing the conversation.
They then proceed to discuss various questions,
which I may abridge, as the reader may not wish,
like these two friends, to draw out a long summer's
day in rambling talk. First they discuss the ever- 92
recurring Socratic and Platonic theme, whether a
man can speak or write well about a thing without
accurate knowledge of the thing: and especially if
the thing be a matter of right and wrong : then, 95
whether Rhetoric be a true scientific art or not.
And then all the writers on Rhetoric, most noted
at that time, are passed in rapid review, with Homeric
allusions, and other strokes of satire. Cror- 96
gias and Thrasymachus are spoken of as Nestor
and Odysseus. Zeno the Eleatic is Palamedes. 97
And then they return to the discourse of Lysias,
and read over again the first paragraph of it ; and 101
compare it with the rival essays which Socrates
had delivered. And then Socrates propounds a 102
U 2
292 PILZEDRUS.
doctrine concerning the relation of Rhetoric and
what he calls Dialectic; which here is described as
the art of treating a subject according to its natural
divisions : and this doctrine is applied to the
compositions which have been delivered ; with a
vast preference assigned to those of Socrates; show-
103 ing, he says, how much more skilful are the
Nymphs of Achelous, and Pan, (to whom, as we
have seen, § 9, he had discovered the place to be
dedicated,) than the Hermes of Lysias the son of
Cephalus. And again Phdrus is made to read
the beginning of his friend's essay, and Socrates
106 ridicules it, and declares that it is so far destitute
of logical organization, that it makes no difference
which sentence comes first and which last. Then
108 Socrates resumes the classification of different
kinds of phrensy which he had given in his last
discourse, and finds in it an example of Dialectic'.
112 Socrates then proceeds to criticise the precepts
given by writers on Rhetoric, as Tisias and
Evenus and Theodorus ;—their technical divisions
113 of a speech—the Proem the Narrative, the Proofs,
the Probabilities, and ;he like ; and which are to
be long and which are to be short. " Prodicus,"
says Socrates, "once laughed at these rules, and
said that his rule was the best, that they should
neither be long nor short, but of the right length."
114 Then Socrates mentions Hippias, "who will,
I suppose," he says, "agree with Prodicus ; and
Polus, with his museum of phraseology : and Protagoras,
with his propriety of expression : and
Thrasymachus, with his pathetic declamation about
age and poverty, a speaker to excite and then to
soothe the passions of an assembly."
1 I have further discussed this point in a paper which is
published in the Appendix to the Philosophy of Discovery.
PHIEDRUS. 293
And yet once more Socrates proceeds to teach 115
that all art is of no real use unless a man knows
when to use the art : and illustrates this by induction
from Medicine, and Tragic Poetry, and such 117
public speaking as that of Pericles.
"All art," Socrates adds, "to be truly great, 120
must include what the enemies of philosophy call
subtle and transcendent speculations ; and so,
Pericles elevated his conceptions by his intercourse
with Anaxagoras, and by his contemplations
concerning Nous."
Then there is a basis of rhetoric suggested in 121
the study of the characters of men, as likely to be
influenced by it : they are to be classified and
distinguished with this view : and so at length 126
the discussion concerning Rhetoric is concluded.
But having finished this discussion, another
question is opened of a wider kind : whether
written composition be in truth a good way of
communicating with men. "We must really ex- 133
amine," Socrates says, "the advantage of writing
altogether." And then, according to his manner, he
delivers a mythological tale of a certain Egyptian
deity named 'Theuth, who invented numbers, and 134
reckoning, and geometry, and astronomy, and dice
and chess ; and who also invented letters. Then
Theuth went to his superiors ; to Thamus, the
king of Egypt who dwelt in that great city which
the Greeks call Thebes, and to Ammon the deity :
and to them he showed his inventions, and they
commended or discommended these several inventions
according to their merits. Letters, that 135
is, the art of alphabetical writing, Theuth recommended
as an aid to the memory and a source of
wisdom : but Thamus more wisely told him that
they would have an opposite effect, and would
weaken the memory by making men depend on
294 PHIEDWITS.
external aids : that they would not be an aid to
memory, but a substitute for memory : a source
not of wisdom, but of opinion. Men will learn
much without having masters, and will seem to
know when they are really ignorant.
136 "Ha 1" says Phaedrus, "you have Egyptian
tales, and any tales you please, ready to your
hand."
137 Socrates, however, goes on with his disparagement
of writing. "It is," he says, " like painting
a picture of a man. The picture looks alive ; but if
you speak to it, it preserves an impenetrable silence.
It is the same with written compositions. You
might think from what they say that they had
some sense ; but if any one who wants to get at
their sense asks them anything, they still say
the same thing over and over again. And when
anything is once written, it goes on circulating
round and round among those who want to hear
it, and among those who have nothing to do with •
it, just the same. And if it is misunderstood or
attacked, it always must run back for help to its
138 father, the author : it cannot help or defend itself."
"Quite true," says Phaedrus.
"Now," Socrates resumes, "let us look at
its nobler brother, spoken discourse, and see how
much superior it is. It is written in the soul of
the intelligent hearer. It can defend itself. It
does know whom to address and whom to turn
away from." "And so," as Phdrus rejoins, "it
is according to you a living, speaking thing, of
which written discourse is only the dead image."
Socrates goes on to illustrate this by another
image. If a gardener had seeds of precious
plants, would he be content with planting them in
flower-plots and making them flourish for a few
days? No: he would plant them in a proper soil,
•
PH/EDRUS. 295
and be content to see them grow in the course of
months. And so, when any teacher has the seeds 139
of Justice and Goodness and Beauty to plant, he
will not take a short course, of planting them
with a reed-pen in the black water which we call
ink. No: if he ever plants in the temporary
flower-beds of written composition, it will be
something which belongs to mere amusement—
arid no doubt, a very good kind of amusement,
better than eating and drinking. But he will 140
have an object above mere amusement : to make
Justice and Goodness the business of his life : and
to plant them in congenial souls, by the aid of
reason ; and the seeds of thought which he will
plant will be fruitful, and will produce like
thoughts in other souls; and thus will have a selfpreserving
power and a self-perpetuating power.
Chey will be fruitful and will be transmitted from
soul to soul so as to be immortal;• a constant
source of happiness to man." He then goes on
to appreciate from this point of view the compositions
and aims of his contemporaries. "Whether
it be Lysias or any one else who aims at mere
amusement in literature, tell him it is poor work.
You and I, Plicedrus, look to something higher."
And we then have the moral of this discussion
thus delivered:
Soc. "And so we have trifled with this sub- 144
ject of composition long enough. And now do
you go and tell Lysias that we two went down
into the rivulet of the Nymphs and the retreat
of the Muses, and received a message to all
writers—to Lysias and all the prose-writers ; to
Homer and all the poets ; to Solon and all the
politicians and lawgivers ; if what each has written,
he has written knowing the truth, and able
to defend it, and to speak better things than he
296 PHADRUS.
has written, he is to be called by a name not
borrowed from the distinctions which we have
maintained, but from the serious manner in which
he has treated his subject."
145 PH. " And what name is that ?"
Soc. "To call a man wise is too high a title.
God alone is wise. It is more suitable to call him
a lover of wisdom—a philosopher."
"Very suitable."
Soc. "But he who has nothing better to
give us than a written composition which he has
made by putting together bits, and remodelling it
again and again in the way of correction, you
may call him a poet, a prose-writer, a lawgiver
or whatever he may be, but not a philosopher."
There is still one point to be noticed ; Plato's
opinion of another of his contemporaries ; "You
must not," says Pheedrus, "forget to notice your
146 own friend, Isocrates. What message are we to
take to him? what are we to say of him?"
Soc. " Isocrates, 0 Pliw,drus, is young : but
I will tell you what I guess of his future career.
I hold him far superior in his talents to the composition-
school of Lysias, and to be of a finer
nature. If he improve by practice, lie will far
surpass anything which he has yet produced ; and
still more, if he takes a higher aim : for there is
philosophy in the man's mind."
PH. "And now let us go, for the heat is
no longer so oppressive."
Soc. "Let us first utter a prayer to the Gods
of the place :
"Oh sweet Pan, and ye other Gods whoever
ye be, grant to me to be beautiful within ; and
that my outward havings may be propitious to my
inward condition. Let me think him rich who is
REMARKS ON THE PHXDRUS. 297
wise : and may I have as much wealth as a wise
man may have and may use.
"Have we anything else to pray for, Plucdrus ?
There is my prayer."
PH. " Pray it for me too, for friends have all
things in common."
Soc. "Let us go."
REMARKS ON THE PRIEDRITS.
IN the Introduction to this Dialogue I have explained the
views with which I conceive it to have been written. These
views in some measure account for the mixture of literary, philosophical,
and ethical discussions which it contains ; though
when all allowance has been made on this ground, the Dialogue
must still be regarded as prolix, rambling, and fantastical: and
so far, a fit representation of the talk of two friends through a
long summer's day. We need not wonder that some critics, as
Diogenes Laertius tells us, found it tedious.
Diogenes tells us in the same place' that some writers said it
was the first written of Plato's Dialogues, and found in its scheme
the marks of early youth. This opinion is at variance with our
supposition that it was written after Plato's return from his
travels, and therefore after the Dialogues of the Socratic school.
It is urged as a proof of the early date of this Dialogue, that
it is highly poetical and imaginative in the mythical part. That
no doubt it is : but the doctrine that such activity of the poetical
imagination belongs peculiarly to the youth of a writer is quite
baseless. The activity of the imagination and the boldness of
its creations seem rather to increase with age than to decay, in
poetical minds. In Plato himself we have, in the Republic and
the Timceus, which all critics assign to a late period of his
writing, mythical inventions as bold as anything in the Phcedrus.
And poetical invention as the vehicle of a wide and elevated
I in. 25.
298 REMARKS ON THE PH/EDRUS.
philosophy is especially the work of the poetical philosopher in
his riper age. To take the instance of our own time, Göthe's
latest inventions (in the Second Part of Faust) are more bold
and fantastical than anything which he had written before.
And it is to be remarked that besides the mythical part,
the Phmdrus includes great stores of literary knowledge, critical
power, and views of the rules of composition, which belong to a
ripe philosopher rather than to a young man. He criticises in a
bold, brief, and masterly manner, a great number of writers on
rhetoric, and rhetorical writers ; propounds a psychological theory
of rhetoric himself; and draws a comparison between written and
spoken instruction which mark the habits of mind of a person
long familiar with such speculations.
Schleiermacher, indeed, with his notion of the system which
runs through Plato's writings, conceives that the first published
parts of this system are the Plizedrus, which contains the internal,
and the Protagoras which contains the external form of Plato's
method of instruction :—as if a speculative writer must needs
publish a treatise on method, before he publishes the truth
to which his method has led him;— as if a system and a
method clearly explained were not the last results of a philoso- •
pher's labours, rather than the first.
In the matter of the Phcedrus, even in the mythical matter,
we have indications of a later not of an earlier period. The
doctrine of Ideas, as something which the soul brings with it
when it joins the body—the mythical expression of the Platonic
Doctrine that to learn is to recollect—occurs here. It occurs also
in the Meow and in the Phceclo. In the Meno the soul acquires
those Ideas in Hades : in the Pheedo the ideal world incloses this
earth and extends above it into purer space, where the ether is
to our air as air is to water. In the Phadrus the region in
which the soul acquires its Ideas, the sources of true Reason, are
the celestial and the supercelestial spaces. Plato might in the
progress of his thoughts, ascend from the former to the latter of
these philosophical mythes : is it at all likely that he would, in
such a progress, descend from the latter to the former?
Again: with regard to the active powers of the soul. The
image of the charioteer and the two horses by which the soul is
represented, would agree very closely with the view given in the
REMARKS ON THE PHIEDRUS. 299
Republic, if we were to regard the charioteer as Reason, and the
two steeds as Desire and Anger as Plutarch understands the
image. But if the two horses are Reason and Desire, still
there is an approximation to Plato's ultimate view—that of the
Republic, such as we do not find in any other Dialogue.
But the argument which appears at once to decide that the
Phcedrus cannot be a very early written Dialogue, is the labour
and energy which are in it employed to show that there is little
use in trying to teach by writing. It seems ridiculous to suppose
that Plato the philosopher began his career as a writer by
maintaining that philosophy cannot be taught by writing. It is
very possible that he might begin his labours as an oral teacher
in that way: and therefore we may imagine the Phcedrus to be
written soon after he began to teach at Athens, after his travels:
and to have been intended, as I have said, to assert and support
his claim to be heard on all subjects of philosophy, literature,
and poetry.
The hypothetical date of the Dialogue appears (from the
names of persons mentioned as living) to be about seven years
before the death of Socrates, at which time Lysias was 52 years
old and Plato 23. At this time Isocrates was about 30. Now
Isocrates was one of the most eminent of the rhetoricians: he is
mentioned in the Pheedrus. How does the mode in which he is
mentioned agree with the supposition of the time of the publication
of that Dialogue? What is said of Isocrates is this. Socrates
at the end of the Dialogue, in reply to an interrogation of
Phsedrus, speaks of him with great regard and admiration. "He
is yet young," he says ; "but I opine that he is very far superior
to the composition-school of Lysias in his talents : and if he
improve by labour, and still more, if he take a loftier aim, he
will produce far greater things than he has yet done: for there is
philosophy in the man's mind." A prophecy like this was not
likely to be published by Plato till the event had confirmed it :—
as in the Protagoras he makes that speaker prophesy that Socrates
will be eminent in philosophy. But seventeen years later,
at which time we suppose the Dialogue to have been published,
when Isocrates's reputation as a great writer was fully established,
and when Plato wished to make an exception in his
favour from the disparaging criticism which he was dealing upon
300 REMARKS ON THE PHIEDRUS.
rhetoricians of the school of Lysias, this was a graceful and
kindly mode of attaining that object.
Schleiermacher, as I have said, makes this Dialogue the first
which Plato published. Strangely enough, this very passage
concerning Isocrates is one of the points of his proof. It is,
he says, impossible that this prophecy could have been delivered
much later than the time at which the Dialogue is supposed to
take place. Let us hear why. "Because, either the Prophecy
was not fulfilled, Isocrates did not realize these anticipations, and
then Socrates would be made to prophesy falsely." Good,—that
is decisive for that side of the dilemma—now for the other!
"Or else the prophecy was fulfilled, and then it would be ridiculous
to put the success in a prophecy long previous." Why
so ? What is there ridiculous in such a proceeding ? Is it not a
common art of poets to put in the mouths of their characters,
presages of what they knew hkd happened ? So Virgil prophesies
of Marcellus after he was dead :
0 dilecte puer si qua fata aspera rumpas
Tu Marcellus eris I
And again of Augustus in his lifetime :
Hic vir hic est tibi quem promitti szepius audio,
Augustus Caner Divum genus; aurea condet
STcula qui rursus Latio, regnata per arva
Saturn() quondam; super et Garamantas et Indos
Proferet imperium.
And so in our own poet, the prophecy concerning Queen Elizabeth
written in the time of her successor :
This royal infant (Heaven still move about her!)
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be
A pattern to all princes living with her
And all that shall succeed.
And the rest of the passage.
Does not Plato himself do this in the Protagoras concerning
Socrates ? And in fact, so far from being ridiculous, is it not,
as we have said, a strong evidence of good feeling and good taste
on the part of Plato?
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 301
Eider whether in that case the mind is darkened
by coming out of a clearer light into unaccustomed
darkness ; or, going from ignorance to clearer
knowledge, is struck with confusion by the brightened
splendour. And in the latter case he would
think that mind happy in its constitution and condition,
and pity the other; and if he were disposed to
laugh at it, his laughter would be far less in a temper
of ridicule than his laughter at him who comes from
above below, from the light into the dark."
And thus this celebrated image of the dark
cavern with its captive tenants who spend their
time in gazing on and reasoning about shadows, is
made to illustrate the main points in these discussions
of Plato, both about the philosopher's proper
place in the scheme of social order, and about the
kinds of knowledge which the human mind can
attain.
We can hardly doubt, I think, that when he
speaks of the truly enlightened man being drawn
down from his divine contemplations, and compelled
to fight his unequal battle at the tribunal of
benighted men ;—to fight a battle, about their
shadow-notions of justice, with those who have
never had a glimpse of the reality—he had in his
mind the battle fought by his master Socrates, of
which the result had sealed the fate of the master,
and given an indestructible bias to the speculations
of the disciple. The other points, the explanation
of the repugnance of the philosopher to
the ordinary affairs of men, arising from his real
superiority, must have been intended by Plato to
apply to those who, like him, made speculation,
not politics, their business, and yet had really the
greatest share of true political wisdom.
But Plato does not acquiesce in the conclusion
that his Ideal State is to be deprived of the ad-
302 THE REPUBLIC.
vantage of being governed by philosophers, who
4 alone are able to govern it well'. A state cannot
be well governed, he says, either by men uneducated
and strangers to the truth, or by those who
have spent their whole lives in study : not by the
former, because they do not understand the scope
and scheme of human and political life •, not by
the latter because they shrink from meddling with
practical life altogether ; they arc already in the
Islands of the Blest, and are not willing to change
their abode. But we must compel them to ascend
to the highest knowledge, that of the True Good,
and then to redescend to share the labours of these
poor captives. " What," says Glaucon, " are we
to be so cruel to them as to make them live a sad
5 life instead of a glad one ?"—" You forget," replies
Socrates, " that each man in the state must
so live, as most to promote, not his own good, but
the good of the state. And we may urge further,
that in other states, men make themselves philosophers,
in spite of public institutions ; but we
make our philosophers to be such for the sake of
the state. They are to be the queen-bees in the
hive. We shall say to them, You must descend
into the common abode, and accustom yourselves
to its darkness. You will see ten thousand times
better than the inhabitants of it. You will know
the meaning of the seemings, because you know
the true realities. And so the city will be a scene
of waking men, not a dream in which men fight
about shadows, as most cities are.
" In most cities men struggle for power, as if it
were some great good. But the truth is this : a
city in which those who are fit to rule are not
eager to rule will have the most of good government
and the least of faction."
1 I omit some sentences for the sake of brevity.
•
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 303
" When we thus exhort them will they disobey
us ?—It is impossible, for we say what is
just to men who are just."
" This is indeed the Truth," says Socrates.
" Whenever you find that those who are fit to
rule are in a condition better than that of those
who do rule, you may establish a good government
; but When you find that the management of
public affairs is sought by poor and needy men,
as a means of promoting their own interest, there
are the materials of intestine war which will ruin
the men themselves and the State.
"But there is no life which inspires a contempt 6
of political success, except a life of true philosophy.
We must then consider how we can bring
men to philosophy—to a knowledge of that which
really is. Now what study produces this effect?
We have spoken of Gymnastic and Music; but
these cannot answer the purpose. Gymnastic is
concerned about the mutable and perishable body.
Music teaches habits of harmony and rhythm, but
not science. We must therefore have some other
study besides this practical music. What studies
are those which lead to science?"
This question is answered by a survey of the
Sciences, at that time existing or possible, according
to Plato's view. These Sciences are Arithmetic,
Plane Geometry, Solid Geometry, Astronomy,
and Harmonics. I despair of carrying the
English reader through the details of Plato's
exposition of those ancient Greek sciences, or
germs of sciences, presented according to his views
of the way in which they might answer his object:
but I will give the general import of this
Survey, and remarks upon it, as I have already
published them.
The view in which Plato here regards the
304 THE REPUBLIC.
Sciences is, as the instruments of that culture of
the philosophical spirit which is to make the philosopher
the fit and natural ruler of the perfect
State—the Platonic Polity. It is held that to answer
this purpose, the mind must be instructed in
something more stable than the knowledge supplied
by the senses ;—a knowledge of objects
which are constantly changing, and which therefore
can be no real permanent Knowledge, but
only Opinion. The real and permanent Knowledge
which we thus require is to be found in
certain sciences, which deal with truths necessary
and universal, as we should now describe them :
and which therefore are, in Plato's language, a
knowledge of that which really is'.
This is the object of the Sciences of which
Plato speaks. And hence, when he introduces
Arithmetic, as the first of the Sciences which are
to be employed in this mental discipline, he adds
§ 8) that it must be not mere common Arithmetic,
but a science which leads to speculative
truths', seen by Intuition'; not an Arithmetic
which is studied for the sake of buying and selling,
as among tradesmen and shopkeepers, but for the
sake of pure and real Science .
I shall not dwell upon the details with which
he illustrates this view, but proceed to the other
Sciences which he mentions.
Geometry is then spoken of, as obviously the
1 The Sciences are to draw the mind from that which grows
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4 He adds, "and for the sake of war ;" this point I have
passed by. Plato does not really ascribe much weight to this
use of Science, as we see in what he says of Geometry and
Astronomy.
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 305
next Science in order ; and it is asserted that
it really does answer the required condition of
drawing the mind from visible, mutable phenomena
to a permanent reality. Geometers indeed
speak of their visible diagrams, as if their problems
were certain practical processes ; to erect a
perpendicular ; to construct a square : and the like.
But this language, though necessary, is really absurd.
The figures are mere aids to their reasonings.
Their knowledge is really a knowledge not
of visible objects, but of permanent realities : and
thus, Geometry is one of the helps by which the
mind may be drawn to Truth ; by which the philosophical
spirit may be formed, which looks upwards
instead of downwards.
Astronomy is suggested as the Science next
in order, but Socrates, the leader of the dialogue,
remarks that there is an intermediate Science first
to be considered. Geometry treats of plane figures;
Astronomy treats of solids in motion, that is, of
spheres in motion ; for the astronomy of Plato's
time was mainly the doctrine of the sphere. But
before treating of solids in motion, we must have
a science which treats of solids simply. After
taking space of two dimensions, we must take
space of three dimensions, length, breadth and
depth, as in cubes and the like'. But such a
Science, it is remarked, has not yet been discovered.
Plato " notes as deficient " this branch of
knowledge ; to use the expression employed by
Bacon on the like occasions in his Review. Plato
goes on to say, that the cultivators of such a
science have not received due encouragement ; and
that though scorned and starved by the public,
and not recommended by any obvious utility, it
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306 THE REPUBLIC.
has still made great progress, in virtue of its own
attractiveness.
In fact, researches in Solid Geometry had been
pursued with great zeal by Plato and his friends,
and with remarkable success. The five Regular
Solids, the Tetrahedron or Pyramid, Cube, Octahedron,
Dodecahedron and Icosahedron, had been
discovered ; and the curious theorem, that of Regular
Solids there can be just so many, these and
no others, was known. The doctrine of these
Solids was already applied in a way, fanciful and
arbitrary, no doubt, but ingenious and lively, to
the theory of the Universe. In the Timceus, the
elements have these forms assigned to them respectively.
Earth has the Cube : Fire has the
Pyramid: Water has the Octahedron : Air has
the Icosahedron : and the Dodecahedron is the
plan of the Universe itself. This application of
the doctrine of the Regular Solids shows that the
knowledge of those figures was already established;
and that Plato had a right to speak of
Solid Geometry as a real and interesting Science.
And that this subject was so recondite and profound,—
that these five Regular Solids had so little
application in the geometry which has a bearing
on man's ordinary thoughts and actions,—made it
all the more natural for Plato to suppose that
these solids had a bearing on the constitution of
the Universe ; and we shall find that such a belief
in later times found a ready acceptance in the
minds of mathematicians who followed in the
Platonic line of speculation.
Plato next proceeds to consider Astronomy ;
and here we have an amusing touch of philosophical
drama. Glaucon, the hearer and pupil in the
Dialogue, is desirous of showing that lie has profited
by what his instructor had said about the
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 307
real uses of Science. He says Astronomy is a
very good branch of education. It is such a very
useful science for seamen and husbandmen and
the like. Socrates says, with a smile, as we may
suppose : " You are very amusing with your zeal
for utility. I suppose you are afraid of being
condemned by the good people of Athens for diffusing
Useless Knowledge." A little afterwards
Glaucon tries to do better, but still with no great
success. He says, " You blamed me for praising
Astronomy awkwardly : but now I will follow
your lead. Astronomy is one of the sciences
which you require, because it makes men's minds
look upwards, and study things above. Any one
can see that." " Well," says Socrates, " perhaps
any one can see it except me—I cannot see it."
Glaucon is surprised, but Socrates goes on : " Your
notice of the study of things above' is certainly
a very magnificent one. You seem to think that
if a man bends his head back and looks at the
ceiling he looks upwards' with his mind as well
as his eyes. You may be right and I may be
wrong : but I have no notion of any science which
makes the mind look upwards, except a science
which is about the permanent and the invisible.
It makes no difference, as to that matter, whether
a man gapes and looks up or shuts his mouth and
looks down. If a man merely looks up and stares
at sensible objects, his mind does not look upwards,
even if he were to pursue his studies swimming
on his back in the sea."
The Astronomy, then, which merely looks at
phenomena does not satisfy Plato. He wants something
more. What is it ? as Glaucon very naturally
asks.
Plato then describes Astronomy as a real
science (§ 11). "The variegated adornments which
X 2
308 THE REPUBLIC.
appear in the sky, the visible luminaries, we must
judge to be the most beautiful and the most perfect
things of their kind : but since they are mere
visible figures, we must suppose them to be far
inferior to the true objects ; namely, those spheres
which, with their real proportions of quickness and
slowness, their real number, their real figures, revolve
and carry luminaries in their revolutions.
These objects are to be apprehended by reason
and mental conception, not by vision." And he
then goes on to say that the varied figures which
the skies present to the eye are to be used as diagrams
to assist the study of that higher truth ;
just as if any one were to study geometry by
means of beautiful diagrams constructed by Daadalus
or any other consummate artist.
Here then, Plato points to a kind of astronomical
science which goes beyond the mere
arrangement of phenomena : an astronomy which,
it would seem, did not exist at the time when he
wrote. It is natural to inquire, whether we can
determine more precisely what kind of astronomical
science he meant, and whether such science
has been brought into existence since his time.
He gives us some further features of the philosophical
astronomy which he requires. " As you
do not expect to find in the most exquisite geometrical
diagrams the true evidence of quantities
being equal, or double, or in any other relation :
so the true astronomer will not think that the
proportion of the day to the month, or the month
to the year, and the like, are real and immutable
things. He will seek a deeper truth than these.
We must treat Astronomy, like Geometry, as a
series of problems suggested by visible things.
We must apply the intelligent portion of our mind
to the subject."
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 309
Here we really come in view of a class of
problems which astronomical speculators at certain
periods have proposed to themselves. What is
the real ground of the proportion of the day to
the month, and of the month to the year, I do not
know that any writer of great name has tried to
determine : but to ask the reason of these proportions,
namely, that of the revolution of the earth
on its axis, of the moon in its orbit, and of the
earth in its orbit, are questions just of the same
kind as to ask the reason of the proportion of the
revolutions of the planets in their orbits, and of
the proportion of the orbits themselves. Now who
has attempted to assign such reasons?
Of course we shall answer, Kepler : not so
much in the Laws of the Planetary motions which
bear his name, as in the Law which at an earlier
period he thought he had discovered, determining
the proportion of the distances of the several
Planets from the Sun. And, curiously enough,
this solution of a problem which we may conceive
Plato to have had in his mind, Kepler gave by
means of the Five Regular Solids which Plato had
brought into notice, and _had employed in his
theory of the Universe given in the Timceus.
Kepler's speculations on the subject just mentioned
were given to the world in the Mysterium
Cosmographicum, published in 1596. In his
Preface, he says, " In the beginning of the year
1595I brooded with the whole energy of my
mind on the subject of the Copernican system.
There were three things in particular of which I
pertinaciously sought the causes ; why they are
not other than they are : the number, the size, and
the motion of the orbits." We see how strongly
he had his mind impressed with the same thought
which Plato had so confidently uttered : that there
310 THE REPUBLIC.
must be some reason for those proportions in the
scheme of the Universe which appear casual and
vague. He was confident at this period that he
had solved two of the three questions which
haunted him ;—that he could account for the
number and the size of the planetary orbits. His
account was given in this way.—" The orbit of the
Earth is a circle ; round the sphere to which this
circle belongs describe a dodecahedron ; the sphere
including this will give the orbit of Mars. Round
Mars inscribe a tetrahedron ; the circle including
this will be the orbit of Jupiter. Describe a cube
round Jupiter's orbit ; the circle including this
will be the orbit of Saturn. Now inscribe in the
Earth's orbit an icosahedron : the circle inscribed
in it will be the orbit of Venus. Inscribe an
octahedron in the orbit of Venus ; the circle inscribed
in it will be Mercury's orbit. This is the
reason of the number of the planets ;" and also of
the magnitudes of their orbits.
These proportions were only approximations ;
and the Rule thus asserted has been shown to be
unfounded, by the discovery of new Planets. This
Law of Kepler has been repudiated by succeeding
Astronomers. So far, then, the Astronomy which
Plato requires as a part of true philosophy has not
been brought into being. But are we thence to
conclude that the demand for such a kind of Astronomy
was a mere Platonic imagination ?—was a
mistake which more recent and sounder views have
corrected? We can hardly venture to say that.
For the questions which Kepler thus asked, and
which he answered by the assertion of this erroneous
Law, are questions of exactly the same kind
as those which he asked and answered by means
of the true Laws which still fasten his name upon
one of the epochs of astronomical history. If he
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 311
was wrong in assigning reasons for the number
and size of the planetary orbits, he was right in
assigning a reason for the proportion of the motions.
This he did in the Harmonice Mundt*, published
in 1619: where he established that the
squares of the periodic times of the different
Planets are as the cubes of their mean distances
from the central Sun. Of this discovery he speaks
with a natural exultation, which succeeding astronomers
have thought well founded. He says :
" What I prophesied two and twenty years ago as
soon as I had discovered the five solids among the
heavenly bodies ; what I firmly believed before I
had seen the Harmonies of Ptolemy; what I promised
my friends in the title of this book (On the
perfect Harmony of the celestial motions), which I
named before I was sure of my discovery; what
sixteen years ago I regarded as a thing to be
sought ; that for which I joined Tycho Brahe, for
which I settled in Prague, for which I devoted the
best part of my life to astronomical contemplations,
at length I have brought to light, and have recognized
its truth beyond my most sanguine expectations."
(Harm. Munch, Lib. v.)
Thus the Platonic notion, of an Astronomy
which deals with doctrines of a more exact and
determinate kind than the obvious relations of
phenomena, may be found to tend either to error
or to truth. Such aspirations point equally to the
five regular solids which Kepler imagined as determining
the planetary orbits, and to the Laws of
Kepler in which Newton detected the effect of
universal gravitation. The realities which Plato
looked for, as something incomparably more real
than the visible luminaries, are found, when we
find geometrical figures, epicycles and eccentrics,
laws of motion and laws of three, which explain
312 THE REPUBLIC.
the appearances. His Realities are Theories which
account for the Phenomena, Ideas which connect
the Facts.
But, is Plato right in holding that such Realities
as these are more real than the Phenomena,
and constitute an Astronomy of a higher
kind than that of mere Appearances ? To this we
shall, of course, reply that Theories and Facts
have each their reality, but that these are realities
of different kinds. Kepler's Laws are as real as
day and night ; the force of gravity tending to the
Sun is as real as the Sun ; but not more so. True
Theories and Facts are equally real, for true Theories
are Facts, and Facts are familiar Theories.
Astronomy is, as Plato says, a series of Problems
suggested by visible Things ; and the Thoughts
in our own minds which bring the solutions of
these Problems, have a reality in the Things
which suggest them.
But if we try, as Plato does, to separate and
oppose to each other the Astronomy of Appearances
and the Astronomy of Theories, we attempt
that which is impossible. There are no Phenomena
which do not exhibit some Law ; no Law
can be conceived without Phenomena. The heavens
offer a series of Problems ; but however many
of these Problems we solve, there remain still innumerable
of them unsolved ; and these unsolved
Problems have solutions, and are not different in
kind from those of which the extant solution is
most complete.
Nor can we justly distinguish, with Plato,
Astronomy into transient appearances and permanent
truths. The theories of Astronomy are permanent,
and are manifested in a series of changes:
but the change is perpetual just because the theory
is permanent. The perpetual change is the per-
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 313
manent theory. The perpetual changes in the
positions and movements of the planets, for instance,
manifest the permanent machinery : the
machinery of cycles and epicycles, as Plato would
have said, and as Copernicus would have agreed ;
while Kepler, with a profound admiration for both,
would have asserted that the motions might be
represented by ellipses, more exactly, if not more
truly. The cycles and epicycles, or the ellipses,
are as real as space and time, in which the motions
take place. But we cannot justly say that space
and time and motion are more real than the bodies
which move in space and time, or than the appearances
which these bodies present.
Thus Plato, with his tendency to exalt Ideas
above Facts,—to find a Reality which is more real
than Phenomena,—to take hold of a permanent
Truth which is more true than truths of observation,—
attempts what is impossible. He tries
to separate the poles of the Fundamental Antithesis,
which, however antithetical, are inseparable.
At the same time, we must recollect that this
tendency to find a Reality which is something beyond
appearance, a permanence which is involved
in the changes, is the genuine spring of scientific
discovery. Such a tendency has been the cause
of all the astronomical science which we possess.
It appeared in Plato himself, in Hipparchus, in
Ptolemy, in Copernicus, and most eminently in
Kepler ; and in him perhaps in a manner more
accordant with Plato's aspirations, when he found
the five Regular Solids in the Universe, than
when he found there the Conic Sections which
determine the form of the planetary orbits. The
pursuit of this tendency has been the source of the
mighty and successful labours of succeeding astronomers
: and the anticipations of Plato on this
314 THE REPUBLIC.
head were more true than he himself could have
conceived.
When the above view of the nature of true
astronomy has been proposed, Glaucon says :
" That would be a task much more laborious
than the astronomy now cultivated." Socrates replies
: " I believe so : and such tasks must be undertaken,
if our researches are to be good for anything."
After Astronomy, there comes under review
another Science, which is treated in the same manner.
It is presented as one of the Sciences which
deal with real abstract truth ; and which are therefore
suited to that development of the philosophic
insight into the highest truth, which is here Plato's
main object. This Science is Harmonics, the doctrine
of the mathematical relations of musical
sounds. Perhaps it may be more difficult to explain
to a general reader, Plato's views on this
than on the previous subjects : for though Harmonics
is still acknowledged as a Science including
the mathematical truths to which Plato here
refers, these truths are less generally known than
those of geometry or astronomy. Pythagoras is
reported to have been the discoverer of the cardinal
proposition in the Mathematics of Music:—
namely, that the musical notes which the ear recognizes
as having that definite and harmonious
relation which we call an octave, a fifth, a fourth,
a third, have also, in some way or other, the numerical
relation of 2 to 1, 3 to 2, 4 to 3, 5 to 4.
I say " some way or other," because the statements
of ancient writers on this subject are physically
inexact, but are right in the essential point, that
those simple numerical ratios are characteristic of
the most marked harmonic relations. The numerical
ratios really represent the rate of vibration of
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 315
the air when those harmonics are produced. This
perhaps Plato did not know : but he knew or assumed
that those numerical ratios were cardinal
truths in harmony : and he conceived that the exactness
of the ratios rested on grounds deeper and
more intellectual than any testimony which the
ear could give. This is the main point in his
mode of applying the subject, which will be best
understood by translating (with some abridgement)
what he says. Socrates proceeds :
(§ 11 near the end.) " Motion appears in
many aspects. It would require a very wise man to
enumerate them all: but there are two obvious
kinds. One which appears in astronomy, (the
revolutions of the heavenly bodies,) and another
which is the echo of that'. As the eyes are made
for Astronomy, so are the ears made for the motion
which produces Harmony': and thus we have two
sister sciences, as the Pythagoreans teach, and we
assent."
(§ 12.) " To avoid unnecessary labour, let us
first learn what they can tell us, and see whether
anything is to be added to it, retaining our own
view on such subjects : namely this :—that those
whose education we are to superintend—real philosophers—
are never to learn any imperfect truths :
—anything which does not tend to that point
(exact and permanent truth) to which all our
knowledge ought to tend, as we said concerning
astronomy. Now those who cultivate music take
a very different course from this. You may see
them taking immense pains in measuring musical
notes and intervals by the ear, as the astronomers
measure the heavenly motions by the eye.
" Yes, says Glaucon, they apply their ears
avrlarpoq5op cdroi.
2 spas ipapikóvcop Oopetv aira ra-Avat.
316 THE REPUBLIC.
close to the instrument, as if they could catch the
note by getting near to it, and talk of some kind
of recurrences'. Some say they can distinguish
an interval, and that this is the smallest possible
interval, by which others are to be measured ;
while others say that the two notes are identical :
both parties alike judging by the ear, not by the
intellect."
" You mean," says Socrates, " those fine musicians
who torture their notes, and screw their pegs,
and pinch their strings, and speak of the resulting
sounds in grand terms of art. We will leave
them, and address our inquiries to our other
teachers, the Pythagoreans. "
The expressions about the small interval in
Glaucon's speech appear to me to refer to a curious
question, which we know was discussed among
the Greek mathematicians. If we take a keyed
instrument, and ascend from a key note by two
octaves and a third (say from A, to C3), we arrive
at the same nominal note, as if we ascend four
times by a fifth (A, to El , E, to B,, Bp to F2 ,
to CO. Hence one party might call this the same
note. But if the Octaves, Fifths, and Third be
perfectly true intervals, the notes arrived at in the
two ways will not be really the same. (In the
one case, the note is ixixt; in the other i x ixi
xi; which are I and H, or in the ratio of 81 to
80). This small interval by which the two notes
really differ, the Greeks called a Comma, and it
was the smallest musical interval which they recognized.
Plato disdains to see anything important
in this controversy ; though the controversy
itself is really a curious proof of his doctrine, that
there is a mathematical truth in Harmony, higher
ruicv4harct
OP THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 317
than instrumental exactness can reach. He goes
on to say :
" The musical teachers are defective in the
same way as the astronomical. They do indeed
seek numbers in the harmonic notes which the ear
perceives : but they do not ascend from them to
the Problem, What are harmonic numbers and
what are not, and what is the reason of each ?"
" That," says Glaucon, "would be a sublime inquiry."
Have we in Harmonics, as in Astronomy,
anything in the succeeding History of the Science
which illustrates the tendency of Plato's thoughts,
and the value of such a tendency ?
It is plain that the tendency was of the same
nature as that which induced Kepler to call his
work on Astronomy Harmonice Mandl ; and which
led to many of the speculations of that work, in
which harmonica' are mixed with geometrical doctrines.
And if we are disposed to judge severely
of such speculations, as too fanciful for sound philosophy,
we may recollect that Newton himself
seems to have been willing to find an analogy
between harmonic numbers and the different coloured
spaces in the spectrum.
But I will say frankly, that I do not believe
there really exists any harmonica) relation in either
of these cases. Nor can the problem proposed by
Plato be considered as having been solved since
his time, any further than that the recurrence of vibrations,
when their ratios are so simple, may be
easily conceived as affecting the ear in a peculiar
manner. The imperfection of musical scales, which
the comma indicates, has not been removed ; but
we may say that, in the case of this problem, as
I Tim viocovot etp09,ccol, &c.
318 THE REPUBLIC.
in the other ultimate Platonic problems, the duplication
of the cube and the quadrature of the circle,
the impossibility of a solution has been clearly
established. The problem of a perfect musical
scale is impossible, because no power of 2 can be
equal to a power of 3 ; and if we further take the
multiplier 5, of course it cannot bring about an
exact equality. This impossibility of a perfect
scale being recognized, the practical problem is,
what is the system of temperament which will
make the scale best suited for musical purposes ;
and this problem has been very fully discussed by
modern writers.
After this survey of the Sciences and their use
in a philosophical education, Plato proceeds to
inculcate the study of Dialectic, as the summit
and pinnacle of studies which are to have this
effect.
I may here also make use of what I have
previously written and published.
The survey of the sciences, arithmetic, plane
geometry, solid geometry, astronomy and harmonics—
which is contained in the seventh Book of
the Republic (§ 6-12), represents them as instruments
in an education, of which the end is
something much higher—as steps in a progression
which is to go further. " Do you not know," says
Socrates (§ 12), " that all this is merely a prelude
to the strain which we have to learn ?" And what
that strain is, he forthwith proceeds to indicate,
" That these sciences do not suffice, you must be
aware : for—those who are masters of such sciences
—do they seem to you to be good in dialectic'?"
" In truth," says Glaucon, " they are not, with
very few exceptions, so far as I have fallen in
with them."
1 SelvoZ StaXecrucoi etvat ;
OF THE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 319
" And yet," said I, " if persons cannot give
and receive a reason, they cannot attain that knowledge
which, as we have said, men ought to have."
Here it is evident that "to give and receive a
reason," is a phrase employed as coinciding, in a
general way at least, with being " good in dialectic
;" and accordingly, this is soon after asserted
in another form, the verb being now used instead
of the adjective. " It is dialectic discussion (TO
8taXeryeo-Oat) which executes the strain which we
have been preparing." It is further said that it is
a progress to clear intellectual light, which corresponds
to the progress of bodily vision in proceeding
from the darkened cave described in the
beginning of the Book to the light of day. This
progress, it is added, of course you call Dialectic
(8taXecTuajv).
Plato further says, that other sciences cannot
properly be called sciences. They begin from
certain assumptions, and give us only the consequences
which follow from reasonim-, on such assumptions.
But these assumptions they cannot
prove. To do so is not in the province of each
science. It belongs to a higher science : to the
science of Real Existences. You call the man
Dialectical, who requires a reason of the essence
of each thing'.
Plato goes on : " As the Dialectical man can 14
define the essence of everything, so can he of The
Good. He can define the idea of the Good, separating
it from all others—follow it through all
windings, as in a battle, resolved to mark it, not
according to opinion, but according to its essence.
If he cannot do this he knows nothing of good:
he may be misled by some Seeming ;—may doze
111 Kat StaXercrucb KaXeis Tbl, X0701, eiCaTrOU Xadt4Pd1, 01,ret 74'14
obcrtas ; (§ '4).
320 THE REPUBLIC.
through life occupied by vain dreams, from which
he wakes not till his final sleep in Hades overtakes
him.
" Men thus versed in such a study we must
select for the Rulers of our State."
16 The study of Dialectic is still further urged ;
and a plan of education is proposed. The most
promising youths are to be selected, and when
they have followed gymnastic exercises for two or
three years, from their twentieth year, they are
to study, as combined, the sciences which they
studied separately when boys. They are to study
them synoptically, that they may see their relation
to each other and to the nature of real existence.
Thus it will appear who is fit for Dialectic: for
"the synoptical man is dialectical ; and he who is
not the one is not the other'."
But we may ask, does a knowledge of sciences
lead naturally to a knowledge of Ideas, as absolute
realities from which First Principles flow? And
supposing this to be true, as the Platonic Philosophy
supposes, is the Idea of the Good, as the
source of moral truths, to be thus attained to?
That it is, is the teaching of Plato, here and elsewhere
; but have the speculations of subsequent
philosophers in the same direction given any confirmation
of this lofty assumption?
In reply to this inquiry, I should venture to
say, that this assumption appears to be a remnant
of the Socratic doctrine from which Plato began
his speculations, that Virtue is a kind of knowledge
; and that all attempts to verify the assump-
. tciroantic h naovteio fna iwleads,. tWhaht taht eP inlaqtuoi rayd adfteedr Ttoh et hGeo Sood-,
the Supreme Good, was to be aided by the analogy
or suggestions of those sciences which deal
1 I here omit the conclusion of this Book for the sake of brevity.
OF TIIE DEGREES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 321
with necessary and eternal truths ; the supreme
good being of the nature of those necessary and
eternal truths. This notion is a striking one, as a
suggestion, but men have always failed, I think, in
the attempts to work it out. Those who in modern
times, as Cudworth and Samuel Clarke, have
supposed an analogy between the necessary truths
of Geometry and the truths of Morality, though
they have used the like expressions concerning
the one and the other class of truths, have failed
to convey clear doctrines and steady convictions
to their readers ; and have now, I believe, few or
no followers.
FLAT. TM
• •
ADDITIONAL TRANSLATION.
I will give a translation of some of the Sentences which I
have omitted in the above abridgement. We have first a remark
on the current notion of education, suggested by the image of the
cavern.
B. VII. "If this is true which we have been saying, we must look
§ 4. upon education as a very different process from that which
those who profess it as an art represent it to be. They profess
to take a mind in which knowledge is not, and to put
knowledge into it; much as if any one should put sight into
blind eyes. But our similitude teaches us that the power which
each person has in his mind—the organ with whiCh he learns—
is [not to be created, but] to be turned to use : as the imaginary
men cannot turn their eyes from the darkness to the light
without turning their whole bodies ; so the whole soul is to be
turned round, that it may look towards and be able to look at
real existence, and the brightest part of real existence, namely,
the Real Good. And the education which we want is the art of
effecting this turning in the easiest and best way : not the art
of creating visual power, but, it being supposed that man has
such a power, but that it is turned the wrong way, to find means
of remedying this. The other virtues of the soul may perhaps
resemble those of the body in this ; that though lacking at first
they may be produced by habit and exercise. But Intellect, it
seems, is of a far diviner nature : it never loses its power : but
by being turned this way or that, it may become a valuable and
useful quality, or on the other hand, pernicious and baneful."
ADDITIONAL TRANSLATION. 323
"Have you not," he goes on to ask his companion, "observed
examples of this ? Have you not seen, in men who are,"
said he, "wicked but wise, how their small intellects sees
clearly and acutely that side to which it is turned ; showing that
their power of vision is not defective, but that it is made the
mere minister of wickedness ; so that exactly in proportion as it
sees more acutely, it does more mischief ? Now if from their
childhood you had, in such persons, cut away those connate
propensities, which like the weights of a net, drag their soul
downwards to sensual pleasures ;—if you had freed it from these
encumbrances, it might have been turned towards the truth, it
might, in those very men, have seen the truth more clearly, as
it now sees the things to which it is directed."
We now return to the question of employing the philosopher
in the business of ruling the state.
"Is it not evident," Socrates asks, "and does it not follow
from what has been said, that the persons who are to be intrusted
with the government of the state, are neither those who
have not been rightly educated, and who thus have no apprehension
of truth, nor those who have spent the whole of their lives in
study :—the former, because they do not keep in view the one
true object of life, and direct their actions, public and private,
by it :—the others, because they will not willingly take any share
in public business, feeling as if they were already, even in this
life, in the Isles of the Blessed ? It must be our business then,
as Founders of the State, to compel the best natures to the
employment which we have already described as the greatest
of works—to attain to a sight of the real good ; to make that
ascent rout of obscurity into clear light of which we have spoken :")
and when they have thus ascended into the region of light and
have really seen, not to allow them to do as they now do : that
is, to stay there, and to refuse to re-descend to those captives
in the dark, and to share their labours and honours, whatever
their value be."
Glaucon is startled at this proposal of constraining the philosophers
to leave their Happy Region. He says :
" What, are we to do them this wrong, and compel them
to a worse life, when a better one is in their reach ?"
I s&vxdPcov•
Y 2
324 ADDITIONAL TRANSLATION.
5 You forget again," says Socrates, " my friend, that the
Legislator has it not for his object to make any one class in
the state happy to the exclusion of the others, but to make the
state as a whole a happy one : and to this object he fits together
the citizens by persuasion and by necessity; and makes
them impart, each to the common stock, such benefits as they can
impart ; and he makes the persons of each class such as they
are, not that when he has so formed them they may go off
each whither he pleases, but that he may use them according
to their place in the social fabric. Consider, friend Glaucon,
that we do our philosophers no wrong : we ask no more than we
have a right to ask, when we desire them to govern and guide
the rest of the citizens. We may say to them : In other cities,
those who are so instructed in philosophy may perhaps reasonably
claim not to be burdened with political labours ; for they
have obtained their instruction by their own efforts, in spite of
their respective cities: it may be reasonable that what thus
springs and grows independently, should not pay to any one
for its growth and training : but we have cherished and taught
you better than the rest, we have made you what you are, in
order that you may be the leaders of the rest, the queen-bees
in the swarm. And therefore each in his turn must descend
into the regions occupied by the general body, and must learn
to see those obscure objects : for when you are accustomed to
it, you will see them far better than those who have always
been there. You will know each of the images, what they
are and images of what, because you have seen the true things :
the Beautiful, the Just, the Good. And thus the business of
our State in your hands will be a business of waking men, not a
dream, as the business of states now commonly is ; conducted, as
it is, by persons who quarrel about shadows, and fight with each
other for the office of ruler, as if it were some great good.
"The true state of the case is very different. The State in
which those who must rule are least desirous of ruling, is
necessarily the state which will be the best governed and the
most free from faction. And the contrary will be the case in
the state where the leaders are ambitious.
" Well : when our pupils have heard this, will they any
longer refuse to take, each his share in the business of our city,
ADDITIONAL TRANSLATION. 325
and then, during the greater part of their time, to live in the
region of pure light ? They cannot. We are giving reasonable
commands to reasonable men. Every one will then go to the
office of ruler as a necessary duty ; very different from the
Rulers whom we now have in our cities. In fact, thus it is.
If for those who are called to rule the state, you can find a
life better than that of a Ruler, it will be possible to have the
state well governed. Such a state alone will be governed by
the Rich :—that is the truly Rich : those who are rich not in
gold, but in the materials of true happiness, a good and rational
life. But if those who are poor, and greedy, and destitute of any
goods of their own, rush to public affairs, as a field in which
they are to get what they want, the city cannot be well governed.
The place of Ruler becomes an object of contest :
and the war which thence ensues, a domestic and internal
warfare, destroys both the combatants and the state.
" And thus you see that the only persons to whom we can 6
trust the government and direction of the State are the philosophers;
for they alone are undesirous of power, and yet know
how to use it when they have it."
The Dialogue then proceeds to the survey of the various
sciences which, in the opinion of Plato, might be employed in
the culture of the philosophical mind. The studies which he
conceived to be fitted for this purpose, were, as I have already
said, those sciences which deal with necessary and universal
truth, not dependent on the information of the senses. Such truths
he held to be a knowledge of realities, as distinguished from the
mutable, unstable appearances which fill the world of sense.
The process of thus drawing the mind from darkness to
light is, he says, a very different matter from turning a counter
from the black-side up to white-side up, as boys do at play ;
and is rather like the task of bringing a soul from Hades to
Heaven, which some are said to have achieved. To find sciences
which may have this power would be indeed a great matter.
We may add that to ascribe such a result to the study of any
sciences, either of Plato's time or of our own, would be to exaggerate
the effect of intellectual discipline.
THE REPUBLIC.
DIGRESSION V.
THE EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE
IDEAL STATE.
(Republic, B. x. § 1-8.)
I the Digression on the Education of the Ideal
1 State it is declared (B. Hi. § 8), that a citizen
of that state must not degrade himself by personating
any mean or base character, or by uttering any
ignoble sentiments; and the reasoning applies to
those who write as well as to those who utter such
sentiments. Also all unworthy representations of
the Gods are forbidden. But poets are not, as yet,
altogether excluded from the Ideal State. To
reject Tragedy, and still more, to reject Homer,
the Bible (as it has been called) of the Greeks, was
a step too audacious to venture upon, till some of
the bold features of the Platonic City had become
familiar to men's minds. But in proceeding with
the development of his Idea, Plato was impelled
to go further ; and found grounds, in his metaphysical
doctrines, for the entire exclusion of poets.
These grounds I shall give, translating in the
same manner as before.
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 327
" On looking back at the regulations of our 1
state, among many of those which appear to me to
be excellently well devised, that which concerns
poetry strikes me as much as any ; namely, the
rule of not admitting into our state that part of
poetry which consists in imitation. Now that we
have distinguished the several parts of the soul,
that point appears to me more clear than before.
" As I may speak plainly to you, for you will
not denounce me to the tragic poets and all the
other imitative poets, I venture to say that all
such poetry is a poison to the minds of those who
hear it, except they be protected by some antidote.
" I will explain myself further ; though a love
and reverence for Homer, which I have entertained
from my boyhood, chains my tongue. In fact one
may call Homer the Teacher and Leader of all
those beautiful Tragic Poets ; but still we must
not have a higher respect for any man than for
Truth. I must say what I think. Let us then
examine the question.
" What is imitation? We may apply here
our general method. We are accustomed to say
that all the things which have the same name
belong to one kind. Take any thing for an example.
There are many chairs and many tables ;
but there is only one idea of a chair, and one idea
of a table. And the artificer who makes each of
these pieces of furniture looks to his idea of a chair
or a table, and so makes the chairs and the tables
which we use. The man does not make the idea,
he only copies it.
" But now what do you call an artificer who
makes all the things which any of the kinds of
handicraftsmen make : and not only all articles of
furniture, but all the plants which grow out of the
earth, all animals, and himself; and moreover the
328 THE REPUBLIC.
earth, the heaven, the gods and all that is in heaven,
and all that is in Hades under the earth.
You think this must be a wonderful Artist ?
There may be a workman who can make all these
things in a certain sense, and in a certain sense
can not. You yourself might make all these
things in a certain sense ; for instance, if you take
a looking-glass and turn it on all sides, you may
forthwith make the sun, and the sky, and the
earth, and yourself, and animals, and plants, and
articles of furniture, such as we have been speaking
of. You say that you make their appearances
only, not the things themselves. That is just the
point I wish to come to.
" And so the painter can make things in the
same way; he does not make the real things. He
makes an apparent table, not a real table.
2 " But the carpenter—does he make a real
table? We have just agreed that he does not
make that which is essentially a table ; but only a
kind of table. He does not make the thing that is,
but only something that is like it. If any one says
that the thing produced by any handicraftsman
really is, he makes a mistake. The things which
are thus produced are dim shadows of the truth.
" Now let us see what is meant by imitation.
There are, for instance, three kinds of tables ; the
first, the essential, ideal one, which God himself
makes ; then, the one which the carpenter makes ;
and then, the one which the painter makes. The
painter, the carpenter, God : these are the three
makers of the three kinds of tables. The one
made by God is single, unique: there are not, and
will not be, more than one. There cannot be two,
or more. If he had made two or more ideas of
kinds of tables, there would be a third, the idea of
table in general ; and this would be the real idea
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 329
of table. And thus God is the real author of the
real table, but not of any particular table, so as to
be a table-maker.
" But now the carpenter also makes a table :
what is he? He is a table-maker.
" And the painter, does he make a table? No,
he imitates a table. And so the man who makes
the third copy of the original idea is an imitator.
" And so the Tragic Poet, in so far as he is an
imitator, is removed in the third degree from the
King whom he produces, and from the Truth.
And the same may be said of other imitators.
This then is imitation.
" And now of the painter :—does he imitate
what is in nature the essence of each thing? or
does he imitate that which the workman produces?
That which the workman produces. And does he
imitate these things as they are or as they appear?
Thus a table, as it is seen directly or obliquely, is
the same, but appears different. Now does painting
imitate what is or what appears ? Plainly,
what appears. It is an imitation of appearance,
not of truth.
" And thus the art of imitation is a long way
off from truth : and that which enables it to do so
much is, that it takes a small part only of each
thing, and that part a mere seeming. Thus the
painter, we will suppose, represents a cobbler, or
some other artizan, himself knowing nothing of the
craft ; and yet, if he be a good painter he deceives
children and ignorant persons, and when the picture
is at a little distance, makes them think that
they really see a cobbler.
" And we should recollect this in all the like
cases ; thus when any one tells us that he has met
with a man who is master of all crafts, and knows
each branch of knowledge better than professional
330 THE REPUBLIC.
men ; we must suppose that he who tells us this is
a simple person who has come in the way of some
impostor, some imitator ; and has been deluded
into thinking him a very wise man, from riot being
able to discern between science and ignorance,
reality and imitation.
3 " And having laid down these principles, we
must consider the case of the Tragedy-writers, and
Homer the chief of them. For some persons are
constantly telling us that these poets are acquainted
with all the arts, all that belongs to virtue and to
vice, and even all about the Gods : for they say,
. a good poet must have a knowledge of the subjects
of which he treats, if he is to treat them well :
he cannot succeed without such knowledge. We
must consider whether those who say this have
been imposed upon by the imitation of which we
have spoken ; and have admired their works without
considering that imitation is the third remove
from Truth ; and that a person may succeed in
imitation who does not know the Truth, for he has
to produce seemings, not realities ;—or whether
those persons are right, and that the poets do really
understand those things about which they are
generally held to write well.
" Let us then consider this. Do you then believe
that if any one could produce both things,
the reality and the seeming, he would turn away
from the former, and apply his life to the latter as
if he could do no better ? No, if he were really
versed in the knowledge of that which he imitates,
he would employ himself about the things themselves
rather than about imitations of them. He
would try to leave, as monuments of himself, many
and good works : he would endeavour to be rather
the Praised than the Praiser. It is a far nobler
character.
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 331
" We say this then. With regard to other
arts we do not require Homer or any other of the
poets to give an account of themselves. We do
not ask if any poet either of ancient or of recent
times was a physician as well as an imitator of
physician's discourses, and so restored sick men to
health, as Esculapius is said to have done ; or left
any pupils whom he had taught to be physicians,
as Esculapius left his clan : with regard to this
and other branches of knowledge, we make no inquiry.
But as Homer undertakes to speak about
the most important and noble of human affairs—
war and the command of armies, and the government
of cities, and the education of man—it is only
reasonable to turn to him and to ask him this :
My dear Homer, if you are not merely the third
in place from the Truth, a framer of Seemings of
Virtue, (for such we showed that the Imitator is ;)
if you are as high as the second place, and were
really able to say what studies and discipline make
men better or worse in public or private occupations
; tell us what city has a better government
through your means ; as Lacedmmon has a better
government through the means of Lycurgus ; and
many other cities, great and small, through many
other persons? What city speaks of you as its
wise lawgiver who gave them a good code ? Italy
and Sicily speak so of Charondas ; we speak so of
Solon ; who speaks so of you? No one—not even
the Homerian clan. Or what war is spoken of as
being carried on when Homer was governor or was
general? None. Or again : ingenious men like
Thales the Milesian, and Anacharsis the Scythian,
have devised useful inventions in the arts
or in practical life, what have you invented? Nothing
whatever. But if Homer has done nothing
for the public, has he in private helped the edu-
332 THE REPUBLIC.
cation of friends who lived in his society? Have
they transmitted to their followers a Homeric
course of life ; as Pythagoras, to the admiration of
the world, transmitted to his followers that which
is still called the Pythagorean course, by which
his disciples differ from other men. Nothing of
the kind can be pointed out : and as to the effect
of Homer's society on the culture of his companions,
the man with the absurd name, Kreophilus,
Fleshlover, was more absurd in his manners
than in his name, if the stories about him are true:
he is said to have used Homer very scurvily.
4 " No. If Homer could really teach men to
become better ; if he had not only the power of
imitating but of knowing on such matters, would
he not have had a large following? would they
not have honoured and loved him ? Protagoras
the Abilerite, and Prodicus the Keian, and many
others, persuade their hearers, by their conversation,
that they cannot manage either private or
public affairs, unless they take these teachers for
their guides: and in virtue of this wisdom of theirs
are so much admired, that their hearers do all but
carry them about on their heads. If then Homer
could have taught men virtue, men would not have
allowed him and Hesiod to go about reciting their
verses from city to city ; they would have taken
them to their homes as something more valuable
than gold: or if they could not persuade them to
go there, they would have followed them whereever
they went, to catch from them their lore till
they had learnt it all.
" And thus we hold that all the poets, beginning
with Homer, are imitators of the Seeming of
Virtue, and the other things of which they speak ;
but have no hold of the Truth. He is, as we have
just said, like a painter who paints a seeming cob-
,Witr
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 333
bier, ignorant himself of cobbler's craft, and painting
for ignorant spectators who judge of what they
see only by shape and colour. In like manner the
poet uses the terms of the various arts as the colours
with which he paints, knowing nothing of
what he describes, except as an imitator ; and so
to those who receive the words, delivered in metre
and rhythm and melody, he seems to speak well,
whether he speak of cobbling or campaigning or
of anything else : such is the charm of those elements.
For if the poet's words were divested of
those colours (metre, rhythm and melody), and
brought forth nakedly, they would make a poor
show. They are like those faces which have nothing
to recommend them but the bloom of youth;
and are unlovely when that bloom is gone.
" But let us go a little further. The painter
paints, we will say, a bit and bridle. The artizans
who make these are the smith and the leathercutter.
Does the painter know how the bit and
bridle ought to be made? Even the smith and
the leather-cutter who make them do not know ;
only the man who is to use them, the horseman.
And in every art it is the same. There are three
persons with three degrees of knowledge ; he who
uses, he who makes, and he who imitates.
" And the excellence and beauty and rightness
of every article—and of every creature—and of
every act—depend on the use for which it is made
or intended. He therefore who uses each of these
must know best about it. He must interpret to
the maker what is good or bad in his work, with
reference to its use. The flute-player will explain
to the flute-maker what are good flutes for playing,
and will tell him what makes them good ; and the
maker will conform to his instructions. The
player, having knowledge, will pronounce concern-
334 THE REPUBLIC.
ing good and bad flutes ; the maker, having faith,
will make them. The maker of the article will
have right opinion concerning its goodness and
badness, by intercourse with the user of it : the
user will have knowledge. But the imitator—will
he have the knowledge of the user? will he have the
right opinion of him who is taught by the user? He
will have neither. A pretty imitator then he will
be ! Yet he will imitate the thing, not as knowing
what is good or what is bad ; but what appears
good to the ignorant many, that he will imitate.
5 " And so we have, I think, sufficiently established
that the imitative artist knows nothing of
the things which he imitates. His imitation is
not earnest, it is child's play ; and mere imitators
are all who write Tragic Poetry, whether it be in
iambics (Tragedies,) or in hexameters (Epics).
" But again : let us consider on what element
in man this poetry operates. Consider the things
that operate on the sight. The same object appears
of a different size as it is far off or near, and
appears crooked or straight, concave or convex,
according as you see it in the water or out of the
water, on account of the effect of colours in producing
illusion ; and thus we are deceived and
misled. And to this affection of our nature the
painter appeals, and other artists whose purpose is
to deceive. And the best remedies for these illusions
are the arts of reasoning, numbering, and
weighing ; so that we may be guided not by appearance
but by the faculty which numbers, weighs,
and measures ; and this is the office of the rational
part of the soul, and its testimony is often opposed
to that of appearances.
" Now we may have two different judgments
about the same thing. But the same part of the
mind cannot at the same time form two different
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM TIIE IDEAL STATE. 335
judgments about the same thing. Therefore the
part of the mind which judges without measure
must be different from the part which judges by
measure. Now the part which judges according
to measure is the Reason, the most excellent part
of the Soul, therefore the opposite part is an inferior
part of the Soul. And thus painting and the
imitative arts in general are in their work far removed
from the truth, and appeal to a part of the
Soul far removed from Reason—an inferior part.
The inferior art appeals to the inferior part and
produces inferior works.
" And as this is true of the sense of light, so
is it by probable analogy of the hearing, and of
poetry.
" But let us not trust to the probable analogy
of painting, but consider the case itself, and consider
to what part of the soul poetry appeals. Consider
it thus. Imitative poetry represents, we say,
men in a course of action, either compulsory or
voluntary, and as being in happy or in unhappy
circumstances, and hence giving themselves up to
joy or to sorrow. Now in such circumstances, is
a man at one with himself? On the contrary, is
he not generally in contradiction and conflict with
himself, forming at the same time two opposite
judgments, as we supposed just now in the case of
vision ? Such contradictions and conflicts are universal.
Now in such cases, a good man who meets
with any misfortune, the loss of a son, for instance,
or any other precious thing, will bear it better
than another man. He will not feel no grief, for this
is impossible, but he will moderate his grief. And
will he struggle with his grief better when he is
in the presence of men like himself, or when he is
alone? He will bear it better when he is seen by
others. When he is solitary, he will utter things
336 THE REPUBLIC.
which he would be ashamed to have heard : and
do things which he could not bear to have seen.
6 " Now the faculty which bids us banish such
grief is Reason and Law: the part which impels us
to grief is Passion. And as these impel us opposite
ways, they must be opposite things. The one
of them tells us that it is right to keep our calmness
in calamity ; not to rebel, since we know not
what is really evil and what good, and repining will
not help us ; and that nothing on earth is worth so
much grief; and also that grief prevents our taking
the wise course of action, which is to play according
to the fall of the dice, as we do at backgammon,
and make the best of it: not, like children,
to place our hand upon the place that is hurt, and
spend our time in crying out : rather to accustom
ourselves to apply the best salve to the wound,
and drive away mourning by mending it. This is
the counsel of our better part, our reason.
"The other part of us which leads us to dwell
upon the recollection of our suffering, and impels
us to insatiable lamentation, we must regard as
irrational, cowardly and base.
" But this element, the violence of grief and
indignation, offers a large and varied matter for
imitation ; while the sage and tranquil character,
remaining always like to itself, is neither easy to
imitate, nor when imitated, easy to apprehend,
especially for that miscellaneous audience which
fills our theatres. It is an imitation of a sentiment
which is foreign to their nature.
" And thus the imitative poet must not appeal
to that part of the soul nor try to please it, if he is
to obtain the applause of the many. He must appeal
to the part which feels grief and indignation,
which is varied and imitable.
"And thence we had reason to condemn him,
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 337
and to place him in the same class with the painter.
He has this in common with him, that he produces
only works which have no value as representations
of the Truth ; which appeal to an inferior
part of the Soul, not to its highest element. And
so we cannot admit him into our well-ordered city,
which is to be governed by wise laws. For he
stirs up and excites the bad part of the Soul, and
so overthrows the rule of the reason. He is like a
man who in a State gives power to the bad citizens
and destroys the good ones. So the Imitative
Poet makes a bad polity in the Soul of each individual,
indulging the irrational and deceivable
part of it, and presenting to it Seemings and keeping
the Truth away from it.
" But we have not yet mentioned the heaviest
charge which we have to make against poetry.
Sad to say, it corrupts good men in general with
very few exceptions. For consider this : when we,
the best of us, hear those passages of Homer or of
any other tragic poet which represent a hero in
affliction, bewailing his lot in a long speech, uttering
lamentable cries, beating his breast, we feel
a sort of pleasure to which we give ourselves up :
we sympathize with the hero and admire the poet
for producing this impression upon us.
" But when we have any grief of our own we
conceive that it concerns our honour to take the
opposite course, to be firm and tranquil, as the
part which beseems a man; regarding as only fit
for women that behaviour which we praised before.
" Now was that admiration reasonable ? Is it
fit that when we see a man doing what we would
not think right to do, what we should be ashamed
of doing, we do not regard it with repugnance but
with pleasure? And then we must recollect that 7
PLAT. III.
338 THE REPUBLIC.
that part of our Soul which we have to subdue in
our own calamities, that part which is hungry for
tears and lamentations and would be insatiable of
them (that being its nature), is that part which is
fed and indulged by the poets. And when we attend
to them, that other part of us which is by
nature the most excellent, from the want of due
discipline and habit, relinquishes its control over
the lachrymose part : forsooth the soul is only a
simple spectator of the woes of another, and feels
that there is nothing base in praising and pitying
another man who, though a good man, being in
grief, laments somewhat unseasonably, and so it
is a gainer to the extent of the pleasure which it
receives, and would not lose this by condemning
the poem. In fact few persons reflect that we
must apply to our own case that which we feel in
the case of others. If we foster the pathetic element
towards extraneous sorrows, we cannot easily
restrain it in our own.
" And the same thing may be said of the ridiculous.
If you listen, not only without aversion,
but with amusement and delight, either on the
comic stage or in conversation, to jests which you
yourself would be ashamed to make, you will produce
the same effect as in the case of the pathetic.
The desire of enjoying a laugh, which you before
restrained for fear of being charged with buffoonery,
you now indulge freely. You have fostered
it at the comic theatre and you bring it home with
you, and have a tendency to turn all your business
into comedy.
" And the same is true with respect to bodily
desires, and anger, and all the passions of the Soul,
pleasurable or painful; all these will in our practical
life be affected by the way in which poetical
imitation deals with them. Poetry fosters and
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 339
feeds them and makes them the mistresses of the
Soul, when she ought rather to let them die away
for lack of nourishment and leave the Soul mistress
of herself, if we are to be happy and virtuous,
not wicked and miserable.
" And so, 0 Glaucon, when you fall in with
some admirers of Homer, who say that the poet
has educated Greece, and that he deserves to be
read over and over again that we may learn how
to govern, and how to conduct human affairs well,
and may regulate our whole life by his aid ; we
must have the greatest good will and regard for
those who hold this language, and we must grant
to them that Homer is the greatest of poets and
the first of tragic writers : but at the same time
we must recollect that we are not to admit into
our City any poetry except hymns to the gods, and
eulogisms of great men. For as soon as you admit
the voluptuous muse either in the form of
Epic or of Lyric poetry, you will have reigning
in the state, pleasure and pain, instead of law and
reason, which are at all times and in all things
the best guide.
" And so much in the way of justification of 8
our having banished from our City poetry, being
such as it is. The reason of the thing required
us to do so. And that poetry may not accuse us
of any special want of culture and kindness in
doing this, let us recollect that there is an old
quarrel between philosophy and poetry. There
are many well-known passages which testify to
this ancient dissension—The yelping cur which at
its master barks—and, Mighty is he in the vain
talk of fools—and, The lordly mob of god-wise
folks—and, Poor are those subtle thinkers—and a
thousand others are records of an old opposition
between the two.
z2
340 THE REPUBLIC.
" But nevertheless let us protest that if imitative
poetry, and poetry which has pleasure for its
aim, can prove to us by good reasons that it ought
not to be excluded from a well-governed state, we
shall receive it with open arms. For we are
conscious of feeling the force of its charms. But
we must not betray the cause of truth, as it seems
to us. And, my friend, do not you too own the
seductions of this enchantress, especially when
you see her in Homer?"
" Indeed I do," said Glaucon.
" And so we must admit her to defend her
cause before us, in Ode or in any other metre.
We ask nothing better than to hear on her part
official defenders, who without being poets, are
lovers of poetry, who may plead her cause in prose:
and may prove that she is not only pleasant, but
profitable in public and in private life. We shall
be the gainers if she is proved to be profitable as
well as pleasant.
" But if this cannot be done, we must, my
friend, imitate those lovers who, when they have
found that their love is injurious to them, tear
themselves away from the object of their affection,
whatever pain the effort may cost them. Thanks
to the love of Poetry which has been engendered in
us by the excellent institutions of our City (Athens),
we shall rejoice to have her shown to be beautiful
and true. But so long as she can make no good
defence, we shall hear her, protecting ourselves
against her enchantments by the reasons which I
have been giving, and so save ourselves from
falling back again into passion for her which held
us in our youth, and which still holds so many.
We shall have our conviction that such poetry is
not real earliest, and does not really contain the
truth. We must guard against it as a thing dan-
EXCLUSION OF POETS FROM THE IDEAL STATE. 341
gerous to our internal polity, and listen to it with
caution. And such is the view we must have of
poetry.
" The stake is great, Glaucon, very great, and 9
far beyond what appears at first sight : the alternative
being, to be a good man or a bad man : and
we are not to relinquish justice and virtue for
honour or wealth or power, nor even for poetry."
This ends the digression on the exclusion of
poets, and the Dialogue then turns to the subject
of the immortality of the soul, as I have already
presented it.
And thus I have given the substance of the
various parts of the Dialogue of the Republic.
.
THE TEVEZEUS.
INTRODUCTION TO THE TIMAEUS.
EVERYBODY who has read anything of Socrates,
as represented by Plato, must recollect
the very remarkable passage in the Phcedo, in
which the dying philosopher describes the grievous
disappointment which he had experienced
when expecting from physical science a solution of
the riddle of the universe and man. " When I
was young," he said, " it is not be told how
eager I was about physical inquiries, and curious
to know how the universe came to be as it is : and
when I heard that Anaxagoras was teaching that
all was arranged by MIND, I was delighted with
the prospect of hearing such a doctrine unfolded.
I thought to myself, if he teaches that Mind made
everything to be as it is, he will explain how it is
best for it to be, and show that so it is. He will
tell me whether the earth is flat or round, and,
whichever it is, will show that it is best so ; whether
the earth is in the middle, and if in the middle,
that it is best there : how the sun and the
moon move, and with what velocities, and how it
is best they should so move ; and so of all things.
Great was my hope : equally great was my discomfiture.
For as I went on, I found that the
teacher made no use of Mind in his explanations,
but spoke of airs and ethers and waters as the
causes of things, and the like follies. The case
seemed to be as if any one were to say that Socrates
does all his acts by Mind; and then having
346 INTRODUCTION TO
to explain why I am now sitting here, should say
that I have certain bones and muscles, and that
the muscles move the bones and bend the legs,
and so, I am made to sit. Whereas the true state
of the case is, that the Athenians have thought it
best to condemn me to death, and that, in consequence,
I think it best to sit here. For, by the
dog, if it were not so, these bones and muscles
would long before now have carried me to Megara
or into Bceotia, on the ground that that was best."
The passage is, as I have said, familiar to all
readers; but it has an aspect which is not familiar,
and which, so far as I know, has not been noticed
by the commentators. Plato, it seems, as a disciple
of Socrates, wanted a philosophy of the Universe,
which should show that everything is best
where it is and as it is ;—a kind of physical Optimism.
He could not be satisfied without such a
philosophy. Mechanical causes were good for nothing,
if he did not see why they were used by
the Ruling Mind. The doctrine of a Ruling Mind
was mutilated and incoherent, if it was not shown
to arrange all things for the best. But Plato became
himself a master, and delivered to his disciples
a large and comprehensive philosophy : did
his philosophy contain anything to satisfy this demand?
He solved, or was deemed to have solved,
many of the Socratic problems : did he solve this?
He too held that Mind ruled the Universe ; was
he prepared to show, that it ruled each part for the
best? He was fond of physics, which Socrates had
held in small esteem ; could he produce a scheme
of physics which should justify his preference?
Was he able to construct the system of optimism
which was the crying want of the Greek mind,
and especially of his mind ?
Optimist schemes of the material universe, such
THE TIMAUS. 347
as Plato thus aspired to, have often been yearned
for and aimed at by men of natural piety ; and
have not unfrequently been propounded by bold
and versatile reasoners. Some schemes of this
kind have found no small acceptance among men
for a considerable time : recommended, no doubt,
generally, in a great degree by the confidence with
which they undertook to satisfy the yearnings of
which we have spoken ; but also recommended, in
the most successful cases, by taking up into the
body of the scheme a large portion of the then attainable
knowledge concerning the universe and
the laws by which it is governed. The optimist
system was made a framework on which the optimist
teacher hung his pictures of sun and moon
and stars, and earth, and air and water, and animals
and man. And those who have constructed
such systems have generally been impelled to do
so by having possessed themselves of some striking
points of physical knowledge, which might, as they
conceived, be regarded as exemplifying their doctrine
of all things made for an end and for the best
end'. Now did Plato at any time possess much
knowledge of this kind ; and if so, did he then try
to construct a system which should satisfy the
cravings which, according to his account in the
Phcedo, pressed so importunately upon the inquiring
and philosophical spirit ?
To this question the answer is, that Plato did
arrive at a considerable number of striking doctrines
concerning the laws of the universe and the parts
of which it consists ; notices of which doctrines
are to be found in various of his writings, especially
in the Seventh Book of the Republic. And
further, that we have an optimist scheme of the
world, constructed so as to take in an extraordi-
1 Descartes, Leibnitz.
848 INTRODUCTION TO
nary quantity of these physical doctrines, presented
to us in that which is a late, perhaps his
last work, the Timceus; and thus Plato at the end
of his philosophical life answered the question
which, according to him, Socrates had. asked in
vain at the beginning of fiis.
The Timceus then was an attempt to invest
with theological value, all the knowledge of nature
which Plato had acquired or thought that he had
acquired. The natural knowledge was there first,
and was, so far as it was true, something positive
and permanent : it was a knowledge that in nature,
the thing was so, and no otherwise: the theological
view of this knowledge, the reason why the
thing was so, was, it may be, something personal
and temporary; something that though it satisfied
Plato, might not have satisfied Socrates, and may
not satisfy us. The theological interpretation of
natural laws depends upon many elements ; upon
our theological ideas, feelings and assumptions ;
upon physical laws invested with a moral aspect
by means of verbal generalisations : upon the perception
or non-perception of ontological difficulties
and of their solutions. It is to be observed that
we are very far from saying that such interpretations
are not necessary and true. They are necessary
and true ; for theological ideas, and the use of
words, and ontological relations are necessary conditions
of man and of truth. But the changes in
philosophical language which imply and which
produce differences in ontological doctrines, affect
also, in their deepest abysses, our theological philosophy
; and hence in a treatise of theological
philosophy removed so far from us in its time
and its thoughts as is the Timceus, we may expect
to find difficulties and obscurities. Accordingly,
the Timceus has always been regarded as one of
THE TIMaEUS. 349
the most difficult and obscure pieces which antiquity
has bequeathed to us. I wish to see what
light will be thrown upon it by regarding it in the
view which I have indicated, as an attempt to give
a theological, or as we may call it, a teleological
aspect to all the knowledge of the universe to
which Plato had attained, or thought that he had
attained: and also, to include in the same scheme
and use for the same purpose, the knowledge concerning
knowledge itself which he conceived to be
established.
The first of the philosophical doctrines which
is embodied in the scheme delivered in the Timceus
is of the last-mentioned kind, the doctrine concerning
the nature of knowledge. There was, as we
have repeatedly seen in the course of the Platonic
Dialogues, a fundamental distinction asserted by
Plato between two kinds of knowledge ;—real
knowledge and seeming knowledge. This distinction
was not of that vague kind which the
phrases just used would imply in English ; and it
is, in truth, very difficult to find in English phrases
which can be steadily appropriated to express this
distinction. The Greek phrases used for this purpose
by Plato contained the record of previous
doubts and difficulties, and of the solution of those,
which the school of Plato conceived itself to have
attained. The difficulty was, How is any knowledge
of things possible, since all things, all objects
of sense, are in a perpetual flux? flow can
we know what any thing is, when nothing is any
thing—really and permanently? And the proof
that there must be a solution to this difficulty was
furnished by the truths of geometry : these are
true, really and permanently, as we feel and know.
And the object of Plato was, to obtain truths of
this kind and order upon other subjects. The dis-
350 INTRODUCTION TO THE TIM/EUS.
tinction between these two kinds of matters was
described by terms which implied the contrast of
the permanent and the transitory character ;—the
terms ot3o- la (being) and 14veals (becoming, coming
into being, generation). Perhaps we may be
understood if we distinguish these two kinds of
objects of knowledge as permanent existences and
transient phenomena. The former belong to the
intelligible world, the latter to the sensible world;
the former are the objects of knowledge properly
so called; the latter, of an imperfect kind of knowledge,
86ea, which we may call, as English writers
have often called it, opinion or belief; and in using
this term, we must recollect that it is intended to
imply that in such cases we do not know, we only
opine or believe. The truths which we know are
eternal truths; they can never change, or cease to be
truths. They are always, and are always the same.
Hence truth of this kind may be called the Identical;
while propositions concerning phenomena are
of diverse and variable kinds, and may be called
the Manifold. And such phraseology as this being
established and adopted, we are to see how it is
woven into the texture of the cosmogony delivered
in the Timceus.
THE TIM2EUS.
THE opening of the Timceus announces it as a
continuation of the Republic in a somewhat unexpected
manner. Socrates had, in the Republic,
told the long story of his conversation at the Bendidian
Festival in the Pincus ; but to whom had
he told it ? It appears now that the persons to
whom his account was addressed were Kritias, Hermocrates,
Timeus, and a fourth unnamed person
whom Van Heusde supposes to be Plato. His
account given to those four persons, is, according
to the image so frequent in Plato, spoken of as a
banquet which he had set before them ; and they
are now, according to the laws of this conversational
hospitality, bound to give him a return-banquet.
This is implied in the opening of the Dialogue.
Soc. One, two, three. But, my dear 1
Timmus, where is the fourth of you who were my
guests yesterday and are to be my entertainers today
?"
TIM. " He is prevented by an indisposition
which has attacked him, Socrates : he would not
willingly have been absent from this meeting."
Soc. " Then is it not your business to take
upon you his responsibility iin his absence ?"
TIM. " Certainly ; and so far as my powers go
I shall not be wanting. For it would not be proper
that this company having been well entertained by
352 THE TIM/EUS.
you yesterday, the rest of us should not be willing
to give a banquet in return ?"
Soc. " And do you recollect what it was that
I said to you in my discourse ?"
TIM. " We recollect part, and what we do
not recollect you will now remind us of. Or rather,
if it does not inconvenience you, give us a short
summary of what you said, that we may have
better hold of it."—Soc. " I will do so."
Socrates then proceeds to give a brief description
of the imaginary polity which he had constructed
: with its peculiar arrangements. He then
goes on to say that having constructed his City,
he should like to have it represented as in action ;
and that he knows nobody more likely to be able
to give him such a representation than his present
companions, Timus and Kritias. Kritias gives a
hope that he may be able to comply with the
desire of Socrates, by calling to mind the account
of the island of Atlantis which one of his ancestors
had heard from Solon, Solon having received it
from the priests in Egypt. This legend I omit at
present, as it connects itself more naturally with
8 the subsequent discourse of Kritias. But it is
proposed that Tim us, as the best skilled in astronomy
and the one who has most studied the nature
of the universe, should first give his exposition,
beginning with the generation of the world, and
ending with the creation of man. After that,
Kritias is to take men, thus brought into existence,
and moulded by the laws of the Platonian polity,
and to give an account of their doings. Upon this
Socrates says :
" I am likely to have a return-banquet of a
complete and splendid kind. It is, then, Timmus,
your business now to begin, of course first according
to usage invoking the Gods."
THE TIM/EUS. 353
TIM. " Certainly, Socrates ; all who have any
good sense, at the outset of any undertaking, small
or great, ask for the blessing of the Gods. We
then who are about to discourse concerning the
universe, how it was generated, or how it is ungenerated,
must, if we are not quite wrongminded,
pray the Gods and Goddesses that we may say
what is agreeable to their will as well as acceptable
to you. And so much for them and you ; and for
myself I must pray that I may be able to explain
clearly what I mean, so that you may best understand
it.
"In the first place," Timaeus proceeds, " we 9
must, in my opinion, make this distinction : What is
that which always is and is never generated ; and
what is that which is always being generated and
never is? For the former, being always identical,
may be apprehended by an intellectual act involving
reason; the latter, being generated and destroyed,
and never really being, is apprehended by mere
opinion involving irrational sensation.
" Again ; whatever begins to be must necessarily
be produced by some cause ; for nothing can
have its generation without a cause. And that the
Maker whereof constructs it, looking to and using
as a Model that which is always the same, and
expressing its idea and power, must needs come out
beautiful : but that whereof the Maker looks to
the transient and mutable, using a generated
model, will not be beautiful.
" Now as to the Heavens or the World, or whatever
any one chooses to call it—we are willing to
adopt the name-
" Concerning that, then, we must first enquire—
as it is understood that we must first enquire
concerning everything—whether it has existed
always, having had no beginning of its being ; or
PLAT. III. A A
354 THE TimiEus.
has been generated, and come into being, starting
from some beginning.
" We must answer; It has come into being, for
it is an object of sight and touch, and has a body ;
and is thus an object of sense ; now all objects of
sense are apprehended by Opinion involving Sensation,
and are among the things which are generated
and come into being : and the things which are
generated, are produced by some Cause.
" Now as to the Maker and Father of this universe,
to discover him is a hard task ; and having
discovered, to make him known to all is impossible.
But this we must enquire about him ;
Whether of the two kinds of Model just mentioned
the Maker of it had in view when he made
it ;—whether that which is always the same, or that
which is transient and mutable.
" It is evident that he looked to the Eternal
Model : for the World is the most beautiful of
things, and He is the most excellent of Causes.
And thus the world is created and constructed on
the model of that which is apprehended by reason
and thought, and is always the same : it is
necessarily true that this world is the likeness or
image of some such model. Now it is a main point
to begin at the natural beginning of things. We
must then distinguish [in our discourse] between
the model and the image of the model, that so
our discourse may have a resemblance to that
of which it is the exposition. When then
we have to speak of that which is permanent
and stable, and manifest to the intellect, our discourse
should be stable and secure from objection
and refutation, as far as discourse can be. But with
regard to things which are indeed fashioned after
that [eternal model] but are merely images of it, our
discourse may be like them ; [that is, not certainty,
THE TIMIEUS. 355
but probability.] For as permanent existences
are to transient phenomena, so is truth to mere
belief.
" Since then, 0 Socrates, many men have
delivered many opinions concerning the Gods and
the generation of the universe, if we do not show
ourselves able to give an account of these which
is everywhere in complete consistency with itself
and perfectly rigorous, do not be surFzed ; but if
we give you accounts which are inferior to none in
probability, you must accept them favourably ; remembering
that both I the speaker and you the
judges have only the nature of man ; so that if we get
hold of a scheme which has probability in its
favour, we must not seek for anything more."
This prologue, besides presenting the philosophical
basis of the system now to be expounded,
is intended to prepare the hearer for demonstrative
and mathematical processes with regard to the
highest principles of the system, and at the same
time to bespeak indulgence for the arbitrary and
fanciful explanations which are given of many
points of detail. This is assented to by the person
addressed ; and an interest in the sequel expressed
by a very usual metaphor.
Soc. " Very good, Timeaus. We will receive
your expositions on the footing which you propose.
And now we have heard your prelude with great
satisfaction : so let us have the hymn which is to
follow it."
The next point is that there is Mind or Intellect
pervading the world, the doctrine which had
been propounded, and so unsatisfactorily followed
out, by Anaxagoras. This is thus proved, somewhat
of poetical diction being apparently assumed.
" Let us now tell for what cause the Maker of 10
this creation and this universe made it as it is. He
A A 2
356 THE TIMIEUS.
was good; and he who is good grudges no advantage
to any creature. Being thus free from envy, he
willed that the universe should be good like himself
: and this, the special ground of the creation
and the world, which we receive from the wisest
philosophers, we may most properly accept.
" And God, thus desiring that all things should
be good, and nothing evil, so far as might be, and
receiving the visible universe in a state, not of rest,
but of disorderly and irregular motion, reduced
it out of disorder into order, judging that this
was every way better than that. It was not and it
is not allowable for the supremely Good to do anything
except what is most excellent (\K__ _ _UTTOV,
most fair : most beautiful). And reasoning on this
ground, he found that among visible things, a work
without mind or intellect is in no case upon the
whole superior to that which has Mind : and he
found too that Mind could not exist without Soul,
[Intellect without Life.] And following this reasoning,
he constructed the Universe, placing a Mind
in its Soul, and a Soul in its Body, that the work
which he produced might be most excellent and
most good. And thus according to the most probable
view, we may say that this world is, in truth,
by the providence [and intention] of God, a Living,
Intelligent thing."
In order to follow this reasoning, we must
recollect that the Soul expresses the principle of
animal life, and the Mind or Intellect, the principle
of thought and reasoning. We see, as in so many
passages of Greek philosophy, how much depends
on the adjective KaX,Ov, and how difficult it is to
find an English word which will bear the stress
of the argument. We see also the assumption of
a chaos preceding creation, and, as it seems, independent
of the Creator.
THE TIMEUS. 357
The next point to be established is, that there
is only one such world : and here we seem to
have the notion (which we have already explained)
of visible things being made after a model in the
Intelligible world, somewhat briefly and obscurely
introduced.
" This being established, we must next say 11
after the likeness of what model' the Creator constructed
the world. Certainly we shall not think
that it can have been made like any special animal
: for that which is like a thing so imperfect,
could not be itself excellent. But we may conceive
that it was made after the likeness of that
[model] of which [the models of] all other animals,
their kinds and the individuals, are parts.
For that [Intelligible Model] includes and comprehends
in itself all the intelligible animals, as this
[visible] world includes us and all other visible
animals. And thus God, determining to make
one visible thing like the most beautiful and most
perfect of intelligible things, constructed it containing
within it all the animals which share in a
common nature.
" But have we rightly spoken of one heaven
[one world], and were it better to speak of many
and infinite worlds ?
" Of one : since it is made after the model.
For that [model] which includes all Intelligible
animals, cannot exist along with a second. For
then, [to have a model really including all,] we
must have one including those two, of which they
would be parts ; and then the universe would be
rightly made after the likeness of this Including
[model], not of those Included. And thus that
the world, by its unity, should resemble the
supremely perfect animal [or living thing], the
Of what animal, says the received text.
353 THE TIMAUS.
Creator did not make either two or an infinite
number of worlds ; but, on the contrary, this world
is and ever shall be the one created world."
The question, whether there are many worlds,
was much discussed among the ancient philosophers,
as we learn from Aristotle and others. The
argument here used is, as we see, rather philological
than philosophical ; namely, that since the
universe, according to the Idea of it, included
everything, there could not be more than one universe.
So far, Timmus has not carried us into any of
the special mathematical or physical reasonings of
the ancient systems. But we now come to the
doctrine of the four elements, which is treated so
as to depend upon certain arithmetical and geometrical
theorems in the highest degree subtle
and curious ; probably, recent discoveries and favourite
speculations in the school of Plato. These
I must try to explain ; and first of the arithmetical
doctrines.
The Greek mathematicians were familiar as
we are with the doctrine that straight lines being
represented by numbers, a plane was represented by
the product of two numbers, its length and its
breadth; and a solid, by the product of three numbers,
its length, breadth, and thickness. But they
had founded upon this a distinction with which
we are no longer familiar. They supposed the
numbers thus multiplied to be prime numbers
only ; and hence they called the product of two
prime factors a plane, and the product of three
prime factors, a solid. Now these definitions being
estathbere follliowsed hthis peropdositi,on , w;h ich
is the one of which Plato makes use, in order to
prove that there must be four elements.
Between two plane numbers, there can be one
THE TIMIEUS. 359
mean proportional ; between two solid numbers,
there cannot be one mean proportional, but there
may be two.
Of course, rational numbers only are admitted ;
and further, to make the proposition true, the plane
numbers must be squares, and the solid numbers
must be cubes. And then, the truth of the proposition
is easily seen'.
This being premised we can follow the argument
:
" The created world must be corporeal, visible
and tangible. But nothing can be visible without
fire : and nothing can be tangible without being
solid, nor solid without earth. And thus when
the Creator began to construct the body of the
world, he constituted it of Fire and Earth.
" But two things cannot be well conjoined
without a third. There must be some bond between
the two to hold them together. And that
is the fairest bond which as much as possible
makes one thing of itself and of the two connected.
And this end is best attained by proportion."
He then proceeds to state the rule of proportion
in general terms ; but it is in this form more
obscure than in its application, which is as follows
:
" If then the body of the universe were a plane
without depth, one mean term would have sufficed
1 Thus between 4 and 9, there is the mean proportional 6.
Between 8 and 27 there are two mean proportionals, 12 and i8;
but the one mean proportional would be 6 which is irrational.
And this is easily seen, in general, that between 0 and 6 3
there is one mean proportional, ab : between a3 and b3, there are
two mean proportionals alb, and ab2 : but the one mean proportional
would be ab Vcib, which is irrational, because a and b are
prime numbers.
360 THE TIMAUS.
to bind together the two parts and itself. But
this is not so. It must be of the nature of a
solid, and solids can be connected by two means,
but never by one. Hence God put Water and
Air, as mean terms between Earth and Fire ; and
made them, as far as might be, have the same
relation one to another ; so that as Fire was to
Air, so was Air to Water ; and as Air to Water,
so eWr atto Earth ; and thus he bound together
the Visible and the Tangible world. And thus
the body of the universe was constituted of elements
four in number, and existing in mutual
proportion : and thus there was a friendship among
the parts, so that it is bound together and is not
capable of being dissolved, save by that which
bound it."
Next, it has in it no principle of dissolution.
" Of these four elements, the constitution of
the world took in the whole of each element. The
Maker constituted it of the whole of the Fire and
the Water and the Air and the Earth, leaving no
part of any, nor any force [arising from them] on
the outside of his creation. Having this purpose,
first, that the world might be a perfect thing composed
of perfect parts : further, that it might be
one, there not being left any elements of which
another might be made; and further, that it might
be exempt from disease and decay ; on this principle,
that the elements which constitute bodies,
cold and hot, and everything which exerts forces
of that kind, if they approach them from without
and act on them in an irregular manner, dissolve
them ; induce disease and decay, and make them
perish. On this account, and on this principle,
he made one whole [world] of so many wholes
[that is, elements] to be perfect, free from disease
and decay."
THE TIMIEUS. 361
• Next, the reason is given why the world is in
form a sphere.
" Further ; he gave to it the form which beseemed
and suited its nature. For that Living
Thing which was to include in itself all other
living things, the suitable form must be that
which includes in itself all other forms. Accordingly
he made it spherical, the form which is in
all parts at an equal distance from the center,
perfectly round and even, the figure which is
most perfect, and everywhere like itself, deeming
that the like was far more beautiful than the unlike.
He made it with a smooth outer surface,
free from any projections, for good reasons. For
it needed not eyes, since there was no visible
thing left outside • nor ears, for there was no audible
thing. There was no external air, which
it needed to draw in ; nor did it need any organ
to take in its food, or to reject it after digestion ;
nothing came in to it for there was nothing without
it. It had in itself all the materials of action
and passion ; for its Maker judged that it was
better it should be independent, than that it should
need anything from another. He judged that it
was useless to furnish it with hands, since it
neither had to take hold of anything nor to defend
itself: or with feet or any other instrument of
locomotion. For he gave it the kind of motion
which best suits its form ; that kind of motion of
the Seven, which is most connected with Intellect
and Thought ; [namely a motion of revolution.]
And thus he made it to revolve turning on itself,
in its own place, and suppressed all the other six
motions, [by which it might have moved from
one place to another :] and thus as it had no need
of legs and feet he gave it none."
The six motions here referred to are : upwards,
362 THE TIM ZEUS.
downwards, backwards, forwards, to the right, to
the left. The remaining one, the seventh, revolution
on an axis, is the motion of the heavens.
The reasonings by which it is shown what shape
the world is not, must appear puerile to us ; and
perhaps are intended to represent the teaching of
physical science in a form suited to young persons.
The next step is to infuse a soul into this
spherical world.
12 " And thus the God ever existino. so reason-
• ing concerning the god that was to be [namely
the material world,] made it on all sides smooth
and even and equally distant from the middle, a
structure whole and perfect, of whole and perfetc
parts. And further, he introduced a soul into the
middle of it, and diffused it through all its parts,
and even beyond, so as to include the material
frame in the soul."
The text adds : " and constituted one heaven,
solitary and alone, a circle turning in a circle,
and by its virtue capable of itself sustaining itself
and needing no other thing: itself known to
itself, at one with itself; and thus, a happy god."
This addition encumbers the progress of the exposition,
and looks like a remnant of an exposition
in a copious and periphrastic poetical style ;
which, indeed, is the air which belongs to a large
part of this discourse ; and supplies an explanation
of its frequent repetitions and its protracted
constructions. And this notion is further supported
by the occurrence of expressions rather
poetical than philosophical ; as here where the
material universe is called a god. The exposition
of the Soul of the World thus proceeds.
" Though we now, after speaking of other
things, proceed at last to speak of this Soul, God
THE TIM/EUS. 363
did not thus make it last of all. For he would
never have permitted the elder member of this
union to be ruled by the younger. We, guided
in a great degree by chance, speak of this and
that in a random order: but he formed the soul
older than the body, in date as in virtue, the
mistress and ruler prior to the ruled."
And now we have speculations somewhat abstruse
concerning the nature and constitution of
this Soul of the World : the object of which seems
to be, in the first place, to make the Soul of the
World something distinct both from Matter and
from Intellect ; and in the next place, to introduce
the arithmetical doctrines concerning harmony
which had obtained a place in the Platonic
school.
" He constituted it of the following elements
and in the following manner. Of the Indivisible
and Eternal Essence, and of the Divisible and
Corporeal, he made a third kind, composed of the
two ; intermediate between the Identical and the
Manifold. Though the Manifold was repugnant,
he united it by force with the Identical ; and
mixing these with the [Intermediate] Essence,
and making one substance of the three, he then
divided this substance into such parts as was
convenient, each mixed of the Identical and the
Manifold and the [Intermediate] Essence.
" And he began his division thus : he took
one part from the whole ; and then another, double
of the first, and then the third, one and half times
the second, and triple of the first ; and the fourth,
double of the second ; and the fifth, triple of the
third; and the sixth, eight times the first ; and
the seventh, twenty-seven times the first."
We have thus the series, 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 8, 27.
And further, the author proceeds to speak of inter-
364 THE TIM/EUS.-
mediate terms inserted between the terms of this
series, which produce very complex relations, but
obviously, as I have said, are intended to represent
certain ratios which occur in the system of musical
harmony. This part of mathematics is unfamiliar,
even to mathematicians ; I cannot therefore hope
to make it intelligible to popular readers. Those
who have attended to the mathematical doctrines
of Harmonics will understand that the subject is
pursued into some complex parts of those doctrines,
when they are told that mention is here
made of a ratio of which the terms are 243 and
256 ; that is, the 5th power of 3 and the 7th
power of 2 ; the ratio nearly of 17 to 18 ; and
therefore something less than our semitone, which
is 15 to 16.
But the question naturally occurs, what have
these harmonical ratios to do with the Soul of the
World? And the answer seems to be, as suggested
by the context, that harmony belongs to the soul
of man, as appears by his perception of harmony :
that therefore harmony belongs to the soul of the
world : that the soul of the world is its principle
of motion : and that therefore these harmonical
ratios must have something to do with the motions
of the heavens. We know that the fascination of
this assumption was not exhausted at the time of
Kepler, if it be so even now. But perhaps we
may regard these numerical doctrines here as one
of the ways in which attempt is made to include
in the theology of the Timceus all that was
known of nature, and especially all mathematical
laws.
What follows is a more distinct example of
this attempt, since it refers to ordinary astronomical
constructions.
" Taking the substance so constituted, he split
THE TIMiEUS. 365
it in two, through its whole length, and applying
the middle of the one part to the other,
he crossed them like an X, and bending them
into circles fastened them to themselves and to
each other at the part opposite to their place of
crossing."
We have here a description of the equator and
ecliptic on a celestial globe, crossing at opposite
points at a certain angle (23 degrees) and going
separately round the globe. These are now to
be put in motion.
" He involved them both in a rotatory motion
in one constant direction, without change of place,
and made one of them the exterior circle (the
Equator), the other the interior circle (the Ecliptic.)
" The external motion he inaugurated, (I use
this term to express a strange poetical word here
used, 7re. 1j,aeo-ev) of the nature of the Identical ;
the internal motion, of the nature of the Manifold.
The Identical was made a motion lateral to the
right ; the Manifold, a motion in the diagonal, to
the left. But he gave the superior power to the
revolution of the Identical and the Like ; for it
alone he left undivided ; but the internal revolution
he split in six places, and thus formed seven
unequal circles, each according to the distance of
the double and the triple, there being three of
each kind, and ordered the circles to go opposite,
some to others ; three of them alike in velocity,
but the other four unlike to the others, and each
to the other, yet still in proportion."
The astronomical system here indicated is that
which makes the heavenly bodies revolve round
the earth in the following order ; the Moon, the
Sun, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn.
They are all carried round by the diurnal motion
366 THE T1M1EUS.
of the heavens ; but besides this, and in the opposite
direction, moving obliquely to the diurnal
motion, and nearly in the direction of the ecliptic,
they have their separate motions, by which the
Moon moves round the heavens in a month, the
Sun, Mercury and Venus in a year ; Mars, in
nearly two years ; Jupiter, in nearly twelve years;
and Saturn, in nearly thirty years.
The principle of the motion of the world is,
as I have said, the Soul of the World ; and this
Soul, the author had just said, was formed before
bodily things. In the next paragraph he repeats
this declaration, and proceeds to apply it in a
manner so obscure that I shall not attempt to explain
it. He says :
13 " When the constitution of the Soul of the
World had been framed as the Constitutor designed,
lie then placed the whole bodily frame
within it, the centre of the one at the centre of the
other. And the Soul diffused through all to the
extremest heaven, and embracing it in a circle,
and revolving in itself, made the divine origin of an
unbroken and intelligent life to continue through
all time. And the body of the heaven was visible;
but the soul was partaker of reason and of the harmony
of things intelligible and eternal, produced
by the most perfect Being, and itself the most perfect
of created things."
The strain is here so poetical that we cannot
wonder if the further philosophical exposition of
consequences becomes obscure. It is stated that
in some way or other this revolution of the heavens
gives rise to and is a criterion of Opinion and
Knowledge.
The next step is to introduce the generation of
Time. He still proceeds in the same poetical
strain.
THE TIMAEUS. 367
" When the Father who had generated this saw 14
here an image of the Eternal Gods, he rejoiced,
and in his joy sought to make the world still more
like to its model. And as the model is an Eternal
Living Thing, he sought to make the universe
like unto it, as far as may be. But the nature of
that Living Model was eternal, and it was not
possible to give this character fully to a generated
thing. Therefore he devised a moving image of
that fixed eternity: he made the heavens to be, by
their structure, (reckoning by number going on to
infinite), a likeness of that eternity which is fixed
and one ; and this we call Time.
" Days and Nights and Months and Years,
which did not exist before the heaven was made,
the Creator made to have their origin with the
heaven ; all these are parts of Time ; and so are
was and will be, which are sometimes erroneously
applied to eternal existences of such a thing. We
say that it was, and is, and will be ; but according
to mere reason we ought only to say it is: while
was and will be may be said of things whose generation
takes place in time. They involve change.
But that which is always the same does not grow
older or younger with time. They never can be
said to begin to be, nor to have been, nor to be again,
nor any of these assertions which their changeable
character makes applicable to objects of sense.
These are all forms of Time, the image of Eternity,
revolving according to number."
This, though it sounds very abstract and lofty,
has really a definite sense, when we take as our
illustration that which I have no doubt suggested
the speculation, the truth of geometry. These
eternal truths can only be rightly expressed by is
or are.. The three angles of a triangle are equal
to two right angles. But this refinement with
368 THE TIM US.
regard to the verb to be is pursued further. He
says:
" Further : such expressions as this : the past
is past, the present is present ; the future is future ;
the non-existent is non-existent ; are none of them
exact. But perhaps the present is not a suitable
occasion to follow out this kind of accuracy."
He then resumes his cosmogony, describing
the material part of the system as he had before
described its motions.
" Time then was brought into being along with
the heavens, in order that being born together
they may be dissolved together, if there ever is
to be a dissolution of them ; and Time was made
after the image of Eternity, that it might resemble
Eternity in its power. For the model
[of the world] is through all eternity ; and the
world itself through all time is having been and
being and about to be.
" This being in the divine reason and purpose
with regard to the generation of Time, in order
that Time might be, there were created the Sun and
the Moon and five other Stars, which are further
named Planets (Wanderers) to define and record
the numeration of Time. And God, when he
made their bodies, placed them in the revolutions
of the Manifold, seven bodies to the seven revolutions;
the Moon, in the revolution nearest the
earth ; the Sun in that which is next ; Vesper
and the star called Mercury, in the circle which
revolves at the same rate as the Sun, but has
an opposite and inde-)endent motion, whence the
Sun and Vesper an Mercury overtake one another
and are overtaken by one another.
" As to the other stars, if any one should undertake
to enumerate all the reasons of where he
placed each and why, the discourse would be longer
THE TINI/EUS. 369
than would be worth the while. Perhaps at some
future time of leisure it may be fully pursued.
" But when each of the stars necessary for the
production of Time had been placed in its proper
revolution, and their material bodies bound with
intelligent ties, they became living things, and
learnt their prescribed course; their oblique motion
according to the Manifold being included in
and governed by the motion of the Identical. Some
went round in a greater, and some in a smaller
circle ; those which went in the smaller circle
going faster, those in the larger circle, slower.
And by the motion of the Identical, those that
went round the quickest, seemed to be overtaken
by those that went round the slowest, though they
really overtook them. For as this motion carried
with it all the circles, so as to make each of them
describe a spiral, on account of their going two
opposite ways at the same time, those which removed
the slowest from this motion, which was
the most rapid, appeared most near to it."
This is somewhat obscure ; but it explains the
general fact that the motions of the slowest of the
planets, Jupiter and Saturn, are not overmastered
by the diurnal motion of the heavens. That the
apparent paths of the planets in the heavens may
be described as spirals is quite true. These spirals
are often in our own time delineated on star-maps.
We have now a further step : the light of the sun.
"That there might be a conspicuous measure
of the quickness and slowness of the eight revolutions,
God lighted a luminary in one of the revolutions,
the second from the earth, which we call
the Sun: a luminary to shine through all the heaven
and such that the animals, whose nature fitted
them to do so, might partake of number ; counting
by the revolutions of the Identical; and so, and
PLAT. III. B B
370 THE TIM/EUS.
for this end, were Night and Day, marked by the
period of the principal and most intelligent of the
revolutions. The Month was marked when the
Moon had finished her period and overtaken the
Sun ; the Year, when the Sun had completed his
circle.
" With regard to the periods of the other heavenly
bodies, they are not noted by men, except
by a few ; and men accordingly have not given
them names, nor determined their numerical relation
to each other : so that to say the truth, they
do not regard them as being measures of Time;
being complicated, as they are, in their number and
variety. Yet it is possible to mark by them the
completion of the Perfect or Great Year, when all
the eight periods have completed their revolutions
and come to coincide again with their first departure,
measured by the revolution of the Uniform and
Regular motion. On this account then were made
the stars which have their courses in the heavens,
that they may resemble, as closely as may be, the
perfect and intelligent life of the Eternal Nature."
In the next place, the Fixed Stars are to be
spoken of ; and they are made Living Heavenly
Things, connected with Fire as birds with Air,
fishes with Water, and quadrupeds with Earth.
We may still admire the ingenuity with which a
kind of symmetry is preserved in the scheme.
15 " Thus, up to the generation of time, he made
things after the likeness of the original model.
But while there were no living things in the world,
the likeness was incomplete. He proceeded then
to remedy this defect, by imitating the model.
The Supreme Mind then, contemplating the essence
of what animal or living thing is, and how
many Ideal kinds there are, directed that there
should be in reality so many and such. Now these
THE TIM/WS. 371
kinds are four : one, Heavenly Beings or Gods;
another, Winged Things, which fly in the air; the
third, creatures that inhabit the waters; the fourth,
land animals or quadrupeds.
" For the heavenly creatures then, he formed
their nature mostly of fire : that they might be
bright and beautiful ; and imitating the [ideal]
Universe, he arranged them in a circular manner.
He gave the collection the most perfect kind of
intelligence, that it might move in consonance with
the Universe ; he distributed it round the heavens,
that, adorned by it, the world might be really a
Cosmos. He gave each of these Gods two motions,
the motion of rotation uniform and steady, the
result of uniform and steady intellect, and a motion
backwards, overmastered by the motion of the
like and the identical ; but he suppressed for them
all the other five motions, and made them stand
still so far as those motions are concerned, that so
they might be as perfect as possible. This, then,
is the origin of the Fixed Stars ; the Planets we
have already explained."
We now come to a passage which has given
rise to a controversy whether Plato held the doctrine
of the earth's motion round its axis.
" The Earth, our nurse, wound as she is round
the axis which passes through the world, he made
the guardian and fabricator of Night and Day, the
first and oldest of the Gods who are born within
the heaven."
The phrase which describes the Earth as
" wound round" the axis of the world has been
translated by some as if it meant revolving round
the axis ; and thus the Earth would be the fabricator
of day and night by her rotatory motion.
Mr Grote has published an interesting Dissertation,
in which he gives it as his opinion that
B B 2
872 THE TIM/EUS.
Plato does, in this passage, assert that the Earth
revolves, along with the axis of the world. The
doctrine which he ascribes to Plato is, however,
not the doctrine that the Earth by its revolution
causes the apparent diurnal revolution of the Fixed
Stars, while they are really at rest : for he grants
that Plato affirms that the celestial sphere of the
stars really moves round and produces the succession
of day and night. But Mr Grote conceives
that though to account for the succession of day
and night by this motion of the celestial sphere,
and to account for it by the rotation of the Earth,
be really two alternative doctrines which cannot
consistently be held together ; yet that Plato did
not see this, and really held both of them.
I find it difficult to believe that Plato did hold
these two inconsistent doctrines. I cannot conceive
any reason why Plato should hold the rotation
of the Earth round an axis, except in order
that lie might thereby account for the apparent
diurnal motion of the heavens ; just as for the planets,
he holds the circular motion of the Identical
with the oblique motion of the Manifold, in order
to account for the apparent motions of the planets.
If the motion of the Earth did not help his astronomical
system, it would seem that he had no
temptation to adopt it at all.
But on the other hand, Aristotle understands
him as holding the motion of the Earth, and it is
equally difficult to understand how Aristotle could
fail to apprehend his meaning; especially as his
own opinion is opposite.
The passage which follows appears to imply
that material models representing these arrangements
and movements of the heavenly bodies existed
among Plato's contemporaries. lie says:
" Concerning the choral dance of these stars,
THE TIMIEUS. 373
their approach to each other, the cycles in which
their circles return into themselves, and, in their
conjunctions, which of the Gods are near each
other and which are opposite, the way in which
some pass before others, and thus, which and at
what time some are occulted, and then shine forth
again, and produce fears and give signals to the
wise, of what is to happen—this it would be a vain
attempt to tell, without having before our eyes
some imitative representation of these things.
And so we have said enough of the Gods visible
and generated."
He then discusses the received mythological
theology briefly, and perhaps hardly respectfully.
He says :
" To speak concerning the other Divinities and
to tell their generation, is a task beyond our
powers. We must on this subject assent to those
who have in former times spoken thereon ; who
were, as they said, the offspring of the Gods, and
who doubtless were well acquainted with their own
ancestors. We cannot refuse to give credence to
the children of the Gods, though they make their
assertions without any demonstrable or probable
proof. As they discourse to us of matters belonging
to their own family, we must believe them, as
the Law directs. Let then the ,genealogy of the
Gods be and be acknowledged to be that which
they deliver. Of Earth and Heaven the children
were Oceanus and Tethys ; and of these the children
were Phorcys and Kronos and Rhea and all
that followed these ; and from Kronos and Rhea
were born Zeus and Hera [which we commonly
translate Jupiter and Juno], and those who are
regarded as brothers and sisters of these, and
others their offspring."
We now come to a piece of Plato's own my-
374 THE TIMIEUS.
thology : the object of which seems to be to separate
those parts of his system which he had hitherto
delivered, and which he conceived to be deduced
from such abstract truths as were a proper foundation,
from the sequel of his cosmogony, which he
regarded as more arbitrary and precarious, and
transient, namely, the production of mortal beings.
Hence the act of creation is no longer exercised by
the Supreme Being, but by the subordinate Gods.
" When, then, all the Gods had been brought
into existence, both those which move round in
manifest courses [the Stars and Planets] and those
which appear when it pleases them [the Mythological
Deities], the Creator of the Universe thus
addressed them : Gods and Sons of Gods of whom
I am the author and the father, produced by me,
you are indestructible because I will it...My will
is a more powerful bond than the natural ties by
which your elements are held together. Learn
now my commands. Three races of mortal creatures
remain to be made. Without them the heavens
will be imperfect, for they will not contain
all kinds of living things. But these must not be
made by me, for if they were, they would be equal
to the Gods. In order then that mortal creatures
may be, and this world may be really a Universe,
do you apply yourselves to the creation of animals,
imitating the exercise of my power as shown in
creating you. And as these are to have a divine
element in them, to lead in the way of justice
those who will follow it, this I will bestow. The
rest do you perform, adding a mortal part to the
immortal ; make animals ; make them grow by
food, and when they die, take them to you again.
" He said, and in the vase in which he had
before mixed up the Soul of the Universe, he
made a second mixture of the same elements, yet
- --
THE TIM1EUS. 375
no longer so pure, but of inferior composition.
And out of this he gave Souls to the Stars, to
each, one, and placed this soul in its vehicle, and
taught it the laws which it must obey ; and by
thus scattering and sowing it through the universe,
among the organs of time (the planets), prepared
the way for the birth of a creature which might
worship God."
This passage adds obscurity in its grammatical
structure to obscurity in its philosophical import.
Cicero, among whose works is a translation of the
Timceus, gives a turn to this passage which seems
to suit better the general turn of the exposition
than the ordinary reading does : he says, " Scattering
and sowing souls through the universe, that
in the course of certain intervals of time, an animal
might arise fit for the worship of God." But
with all the light that we can obtain, the exposition
of Plato's psychology and metempsychosis
which is here given is obscure ; and, what is not
generally the case in this discourse, obscure from
brevity and abruptness. It is implied that the
animal just spoken of, which can worship God, is
man ; and then we have the account of the production
of various attributes of humanity.
" Human nature being twofold, the better kind
was that which was afterwards called man [in opposition
to woman]. These souls were necessarily
inserted in bodies, and as bodily parts were added
or taken away, there arose sensation, and love
mixed of pleasure 'and pain, and fear, and anger,
and the other passions. And if man mastered
these, he was to live justly, but if he was mastered
of them, unjustly. And he who had lived well
his appointed time, was to return to the habitation
of his own congenial star, and to have a happy
and suitable life. But if he failed of this, in his
876 THE TIM/EITS.
second birth he was to become a woman ; and if
he were still evil, he was to pass into other animals
according to the kind of evil which he did ;
and going from state to state of punishment,
should find no end till he yielded himself to the
movement of the Identical and Uniform in himself."
This last condition is obscure enough, and is
not made less so by the way in which it is further
expanded : namely, " till doing this, and triumphing
thus by reason over the crowd and heap of
parts of fire and water and air and earth, which,
tumultuous and irrational, had grown into him, he
should come into the form of his first and best
habit."
Leaving this description of the conditions
under which souls were disseminated through the
universe, we go to other details.
" Having thus proclaimed his laws to all, that
he might have no blame for their future evil
doings, he sowed some of this Soul in the Earth,
some in the Moon, and some in the other bodies
which are organs of time (the Planets). After this
dissemination, he charged the younger Gods to
fashion mortal bodies, and whatever else human
souls might treed ; and then to guide this creature
as best they might, except so far as it might be
itself the cause of its own evils."
The exposition now proceeds to a fanciful analogy
between the movements of the heavens and
the movements of the human soul. Of the movements
of the heavens, the uniform diurnal motion,
the Identical, represents the rule of Reason. The
sway of the Passions is imaged by all other motions.
18 "He, when he had ordered all this, rested in
his accustomed repose : and his children attended
THE TIMYEUS. 3 7 7
to his plan. They took the immortal basis of a
mortal animal [which had been given them], and
imitating the great artificer, they borrowed portions
of the elements of the world, fire and earth
and water and air, and they fastened them together,
not with those indissoluble bonds by which
their own natures were framed, but with small
nails too fine to be seen, and thus they made them
each into one body; and they established the revolutions
of the immortal soul in a body subject to
the influx and efflux of matter. And these steady
revolutions, thus involved in a powerful stream,
were not either masters or mastered in any constant
way ; but were dragged this way and that
by momentary impulses, so that the whole animal
had all the six motions, and moved forwards and
backwards, and to the right and to the left, and
upwards and downwards. And besides the impetuosity
of the stream which brought the nutriment
of the animal, still greater disturbance was produced
by external agencies ; when a portion of
fire, or solid earth, or water, or air acted on it from
without, and thus, through the motions of the
body, operated upon the Soul. And these operations
we call sensations. And these disturbances,
combining with the motions of the souls, produced
great irregularities, impeding and counteracting
the governing motion of the Identical, and deflecting
the motion of the Manifold, so as to destroy
its harmonical relations ; so that though it could
not quite break up these movements it deranged
and confused them. Hence when they appeared
to be going one way they were going another ; as
when a man standing on his head mistakes right
for left and left for right. And thus when they
deal with external things, they apply the notions
of the same and different in a false and inverted
378 THE TIMPEUS.
way, so that there is in them no steady and governing
motion. But when the external sensations
possess the whole of the Soul, then the regular
motions which are really mastered appear to master
the others."
That is, when passion governs the whole of
the Soul, it carries the reason with it ; and thus
reason and passion go the same way, though a
wrong way ; and reason which seems to govern, is
really carried away captive. This is an ingenious
novel application of Plato's fanciful astronomical
analogy of the Soul in an extreme case. To return
to the more normal case :
" On account of this prevalence of external
influences, the Soul is now-a-days, as at the beginning
it was, unintelligent when it is first placed in
a mortal body. But when the stream of nutriment
by which growth is produced, is moderate,
and the revolutions of the Soul proceed in the
right direction, and become more confirmed as time
goes on, then the circles turn in the right way,
and men call things the same and different as they
really are. And so the man may become perfectly
sound and whole: but if he neglect this opportunity,
after an incomplete life he returns to Hades.
But let us return to our more proper subject."
The more proper subject is the construction of
the human body, and of other parts of the material
world. In translating the above mythological and
psychological doctrines I have simplified and
abridged the style : but I believe I have given
the import of the assertions.
"The creative Gods, then, took the two revolutions
of which we have spoken, and imitating
the spherical form of the universe, they put them
into a spherical body which we call the head, the
most divine part which governs all the rest. To
THE TIM2EUS. 3 79
this they gave the whole of the body as a servant,
seeing that it must share in all the body's motions.
And as it had to move along the uneven earth, in
order that it might not have to roll along the
ground, but might be able to surmount the hillocks
and rise out of the hollows, thus gave it a travelling
vehicle. This is the reason why the body is
long, and has four long limbs, curiously contrived
and jointed ; and by means of these it can go into
every place, carrying with it the habitation of the
divine and sacred part of man : and that is the
reason why all men have arms and legs.
" And again : the Gods thinking that the front
was more honourable and beautiful than the back,
made us so that generally we go forwards. And
the front was to be made to differ from the back.
And so they put the face on that side of the head;
and placed there instruments for the intelligence
of the soul, and gave this front part the task of
leading and governing the rest.
"And of the organs, first they made the lightbearing
eyes : after this plan. They made a material
thing of that part of Elemental Fire which
does not burn but sheds a mild light, like the
light of day; (as hemeros, mild, is like hemera, day.)
They made this Elemental Fire, as it resides in
us, to beam forth smooth and dense through all
parts of the eye, but made a close sieve of the
middle of the eye, so that it might stop all the
coarser part and only let the pure part through.
And thus when the light of the day meets the
light which beams from the eye, then like meets
like and makes a homogeneous body; the external
light meeting the internal light, in the direction
in which the eyes look. And by this homogeneity
like feels like, and if this beam touch any object
or any object touch it, it transmits the motions
380 THE TIMAUS.
through the body to the soul, and produces that
sensation which we call seeing. But when night
comes, the homogeneous external light is absent,
and the visual beam is cut off. The internal light
issuing forth finds nothing homogeneous in the air
on which it falls, as containing no tire ; and so is
itself changed and extinguished. It sees no longer,
and tends to sleep. And the eyelids which the
Gods had constructed to protect the eyes, aid this
tendency. For they confine within us the force of
the fire, which then calms and soothes the internal
movements, and when they are soothed quiet
comes, and with quiet, dreamless sleep. But if
some of the stronger motions remain in one or
another part of the frame, they produce within us
likenesses of external objects, according to the part
which they affect, and thus give rise to dreams."
This notion of the process of seeing would of
course give rise to the same results as the notion
now received, that the light by which vision takes
place proceeds (reflected) from the objects in
straight lines which we call rays. All the properties
of Catoptrics (the doctrine of reflected light)
might be established on these principles ; and in
fact many of them were established at an early
period by the Greek geometers. We have still
extant a treatise on Optics by Euclid, who lived
a little later than Plato, and was of the Platonic
school ; and others of subsequent periods. The
introduction of the properties of concave mirrors
in the Timceus, which follows the passages that I
have been translating, exemplifies what I said at
the beginning, that this treatise was intended to
include all the extant mathematical and physical
knowledge ; for the final causes of natural events
and laws, the more prominent professed object of
the Dialogue, are very little, if at all, illustrated
THE TIM,EUS. 381.
by such properties. The proofs of the properties
of concave mirrors are nearly the same as those
which we now give, using the fire and the visual
beams, instead of the light and the rays of which
we now speak in such demonstrations ; and having
the proofs more vague than ours are, mainly from
the want of diagrams, which Plato does not give,
but which his commentators supply. I must
abridge this passage, modifying the phraseology
in the manner which I have suggested :
" As to the images produced by mirrors and
by smooth surfaces, they are now easily explained.
The light that proceeds from the face (as an object
of vision) and the light that proceeds from the
eye become one continuous ray at the smooth surface
; but the right is represented as left and the
left as right, by the way in which the rays fall.
But if the smooth surface of the mirror be elevated
to the right and left, so that the ray from
the right falls on the left, and the ray from the
left falls on the right, then the right is the right
in the image, and the left is the left. And if this
concave mirror be turned lengthways, the top appears
as the bottom, and the bottom as the top for
the same reason."
We then come to a more distinct statement
that final causes are really the main subject of
this discourse.
" This then is what we have to say 'of secondary
causes, which God uses as instruments in
working out the Idea of the Best. And these are
by the most regarded not as second causes, but as
the real causes of things ; such causes as make
them cold or hot, or solid or fluid, and the like.
But these second causes are not capable of reason
and intelligence ; that which alone can possess
intelligence we call Soul. And soul is an invisible
882 THE TIMIEUS.
thing ; while material things, fire and water and
air and earth, are all visible bodies. And lie who
has any due appreciation of Mind and Intelligence,
will try to discern First Causes in Intelligent Nature
; and those causes which are put in motion
by others by some necessary connexion, and move
others by the like connexions, he will call Second
Causes. And this is what we must do. We
must attend to both kinds of causes ; both those
which, acting with Intelligence, produce what is
good and fair : and those which, destitute of Intelligence,
produce their effects blindly.
20 " We have then explained the Second Causes
of vision, and how the sight has such powers as
it has. But now we must speak of the main use
of all this contrivance, and why it was given to
us by God. The sense of light, in my opinion,
derives its greatest value from this : that no such
thoughts as we have expressed concerning the
universe could have been conceived, if we could
not have seen the stars and the sun and the heavens.
But as it is, Visible night and day, and
the revolutions of months and years, give rise to
Number, call up the conception of Time, and impel
us to inquiry concerning the Universe. And hence
we are led to Philosophy, the greatest good which
the gods have given us or will ever give, to the
human race. This I call the greatest good arising
from the sense of light. Other advantages of
an inferior kind, why should we dwell upon ? He
who is not a philosopher, if by the loss of sight
he lost those inferior advantages, would be wrong
to lament them [for, he intimates, his greatest loss
would be the want of philosophy]. But this let
us say : the true cause why God devised the
faculty of sight, and gave it to us is, that looking
at the movements ordained by Intelligence in the
THE TIM.XUS. 383
heavens, we might use them to discern the movements
of our own Intelligence. For these are
similar to those; so far as disturbed movements
can be to undisturbed. And studyinc, this, and
following a participation in the natural rectitude
of reason, we are to imitate the unerring movements
of the Divine Mind and rectify the erring
movements of our minds.
" And about Sound and the sense of Hearing
we have the same remarks to make. They are
given us by God for the same purpose and with
the same tendency. Discourse has the same object,
and contributes mightily to the same end.
And as to the use of the musical property of
sound, the perception of it is given to the ear for
the sake of Harmony. And harmony has movements
sympathetic to the movement of the soul ;
and thus he who applies Music rightly, will find
it useful, not for an irrational pleasure only, as
men now use it. It is given as a means of bringing
the irregular movement of the soul into harmony
and symphony with itself. And for the
same reason was the sense of Rhythm given ; to
control the irregular and ungraceful habits which
most persons need to have corrected."
Plato afterwards makes it his business to pursue
this doctrine of Final Causes into other parts
of the human frame. But before doing this, he
turns back to a more recondite and abstruse
speculation, the essential differences of those parts
of the world which he had already called Elements.
And here, in accordance with what I have
already said, that I suppose one of his objects to
have been to introduce into this his system of the
world all the mathematical knowledge to which
he and his contemporaries had attained, I conceive
his purpose was to give a cosmical application to
384 THE TIM/EUS.
the geometrical doctrine which he and his school
had established, that there are and can be only,
five regular solids—the Platonic Bodies, as they
are sometimes called. He teaches that the four
elements have, for their essential forms, four of
these geometrical figures. In order to carry out
this notion, he has to suppose a first matter, a
materia prima, which is moulded into these different
kinds of matter, earth, air, fire and water.
This notion, added to his previous doctrine of an
ideal type of . every material thing in nature,
makes an abstruse scheme, which he introduces
and expounds with an amount of preface, preparation,
and apology, which show how strongly he
felt the difficulty of such exposition. We shall
find however that each step of the exposition has
its meaning and its purpose.
21 " In what we have hitherto said, we have,
with few exceptions, explained things which are
constructed with Intelligence : but we must add to
our exposition the things which are produced by
Necessity ; [that is, by the necessary properties of
their materials.] For the creation of this world
was produced by a mixture of Necessity and constitutive
Intelligence. Intelligence prevailed over
Necessity, and induced it to guide the main parts
of the world to the Best ; and in this manner
Necessity submitting to the direction of wisdom,
the universe was first framed. And if any one
will expound the state of things as it really is,
he must in his explication include a mixture of
this irregular course. We must therefore go back
again and begin at the beginning. We must examine
what, before the creation of the heavens,
was the very nature of fire, water, air and earth,
and what their previous attributes. No one yet
has done this. Men have begun as if they knew
TIIE TIM/EUS. 385
what is fire, and each of the other elements, and
then we assert that they are the Principles of the
universe, or, as we say, the Elements. But a little
reflection will show that they are not elements of
the universe as letters are elements of a word, nor
even as syllables are." He means that these elements
are to be resolved into other more fundamental
elements, which, as we shall see, are triangles.
He then proceeds to disclaim the pretension of
giving a complete account of the formation of the
universe ; pointing probably to the atom ist school
—Leucippus and Democritus and the like—who
professed to explain everything by the concourse
of atoms.
" The principle, or the principles of all things,
or any opinion which may be entertained on this
subject, we shall not now undertake to tell : for
this reason, that in the present course of discussion
it is difficult to say what I think on that subject.
You are not to expect this of me ; nor do I persuade
myself that I could undertake so large a
task. But as I said at first, I will aim at a probable
account : and shall hope to give you an account
as probable as any which has been given ;
and going back to the beginning, I will endeavour
to speak of the parts and their connexion."
The gravity of this task is shown by an introductory
prayer.
" Here in the outset we invoke God, the preserver
from absurd and incoherent notions, to
guide us to the doctrine which is probable, and so
we again begin our exposition."
He then proceeds to the basis of his new ex-
Matte
r, which, as I have said, includes a First
Matter, as well as the Ideal Model and the Visible
Copy.
PLAT. III. C C
386 THE TIMIEUS.
22 " This new beginning of our discussion concerning
the Universe must take a wider division
than the first time. We then distinguished two
things, which were on that occasion insufficient for
us ;—the one laid down as the Model or Paradigm,
a thing intelligible (an object of intellect)
and unalterable ; a second, the Imitation of the
Model, generated (brought into transient being)
and visible (an object of sense). We then required
nothing more than these two. But now
our course of reasoning leads me to speak of a
third thing—hard to explain and to understand.
Of what nature is this ? you ask. It is of such
nature as to be the Receptacle, and, as it were, the
Nurse of everything. I must endeavour to explain
it more clearly.
" I must begin by saying, that we are accustomed
to speak of fire and the rest, as really different,
one from the others. But we cannot really
hold fast any firm and sure distinction by which
one thing is water more than fire, or one element
more than another. That which we call water,
when condensed, as we think, becomes, as we see,
stone, and earth : when it is rarified and evaporated,
it becomes air ; and air afterward becomes
fire ; and fire condensed and extinguished again
takes the shape of air ; and air condensed and
thickened becomes mist and cloud ; and when
these are more compressed, they become running
water; and from water again are formed earth and
stones. And thus these elements form a system
returning into itself in their generation. And
then, as these do not retain the same aspect, is it
not absurd to maintain that any one of them is
one thing and not another thing ? This we must
not do: we must rather say thus : When we see
a thing, as fire for instance, pass from one condi-
THE TIMIEUS. 387
tion to another, we must not say this is fire, but
this appearance is the appearance of fire ; and so
of water, and the rest. We are not to say this
or that is fire, as if the thing indicated had a permanent
nature, like a geometrical figure; we are
to say that it has for the time assumed the appearance
of fire. But that material in which each
of these seeming elements appears and is again
lost, we say is this or that. But we are not to
say that this or that is hot or cold, or black or
white ; but only that they appear so."
This doctrine approaches very near to the
modern doctrine of secondary qualities depending
on primary ones. I have abridged Plato's exposition
of it. But the similitude which he adds
brings us nearer to his especial doctrine.
" We must try to make this clearer. If any
one were to make all kinds of shapes of gold,
changing the material constantly out of one shape
into another, and if he were to show us one of
these shapes and ask what it is, it would be a
much safer and truer answer to say that it is gold
than that it is a triangle or a square. We cannot
say that it is one of these, for it changes from one
of them to another ; but if any one were to say
it has the shape of a triangle or a square, we might
be satisfied with the answer. The same is to be
said of that thing which takes the shapes of all
bodies. It has always the same nature ; while it
assumes the aspects of all things. But its own
form is not that of any of the things which are
made of it. It is the material which receives the
impress of each different thing ; and these different
things are the impressions and imitations of
eternal models, as we shall afterwards explain."
I have here perhaps brought out the doctrine
of a First Matter, of which all things are different
c c 2
388 THE TIM/EUS.
Forms, a little more distinctly than Plato has here
expressed. it : but there can be no doubt that this
is his doctrine. And thus we are brought to the
distinction of Matter and Form, a distinction which
plays an important part in all philosophies which
attempt the analysis of the phenomena of the
world. The fundamental antithesis of philosophy
in this shape, as in all shapes, is at the same time
inevitable and unintelligible :—necessary to assume,
and impossible to conceive. For we see that the
same NI atter may assume different forms. Water
may become ice or steam : and if ice, why in
some larger meaning of the word Form, may it
not also by a change of the form of its elements
become gold or oil? All difference of things may
thus be conceived to arise from a difference of
Form in their elements. But if so, what is the
Material which thus takes different Forms? We
cannot conceive Matter without some Form ; and
yet for the purpose of our explanation, it is necessary
that we should do so. The very use of the
term Matter suggests the necessity of its having
some Form. We cannot conceive Matter which
is capable of all Forms, but has, as yet, received
none. And Plato in fact does not here use the
word tkri, Matter, nor speak, as we have spoken,
of a First Matter. He employs various metaphorical
phrases, some of which we have here had :—
the thing, which he says is very hard to express,
is the Receptacle, the Nurse, the Mother of all
things : the Wax or Clay in which the impression
is made. At times he seems to confound it with
mere space ; and Aristotle says that in the Timceus,
and in the unwritten doctrines of Plato,
space, place, matter, the Indefinite, all mean the
same thing.
In the treatise entitled Timceus the Locrian,
THE TIMAEUS. 389
which seems to be an attempt to construct an
original of Plato's Timmus, such as the Pythagorean
Timmus may be supposed to have written
in the Doric dialect, we have this identity more
distinctly expressed. It will be worth while to
translate the beginning of this treatise.
" Timmus the Locrian thus said' : That there
are two Causes of all things : Mind, the cause of
things which are made according to reason : Necessity,
the cause of things which happen by force
according to the powers of bodies. And of the
former, the Cause is of the nature of Good, and
is called God, and is the principle of what is Best,
but the consequents and co-operating causes are
referred to necessity. And thus the Universe is
constituted of Idea, Matter, and Sensible Objects,
the offspring of the other two.
" The former, the Idea, is ungenerated and
unchanged, permanent, of the nature of the Identical:
intelligible, and the paradigm of things
created, which are in constant change. But
matter (i',X77) is the impressible material, the Mother
and Nurse, and is the source of generation
of the third kind of being. For receiving the
likenesses (of the Idea) into itself, and as it were
being moulded on them, it produces all created
things.
" And this Matter, he said, was eternal, but
not unchangeable : and itself formless and figureless,
but recipient of all form. And as constituting
bodies, this matter was divisible, and of
the nature of the Manifold.
" And Matter they call Space and Place.
And thus there are two opposite Causes ; of which
the Idea has the relation of the Male, and of the
I rdae e0a, the Pythagorean auras gg5a, " the Master said."
390 THE TIM/EUS.
Father ; Matter, of the Female, and of the Mother.
And the third kind of thing is the offspring
of these.
" And these things, being three, are known in
three ways : the Idea, by Intellect, as Science ;
Matter, by a bastard reasoning ; for we cannot yet
attain to discern it directly, but by analogy ; and
the Products of these by sensation, and opinion."
24 The Platonic Timceus contains a statement
nearly identical with this.
" For the present then we must conceive three
kinds of things : that which is made, that in
which it is made, and that after the likeness of
which it is made : and of these we may liken the
recipient (the matter) to the Mother : that after
which it is made, to the Father ; and that produced
between the two to the Offspring."
We have now other similitudes to explain the
nature of the First Matter.
" We must comprehend that as the image must
appear with endless varieties of kind, that in
which the image is to be fashioned must be fitted
for its office, by being free from all the forms
which it is afterwards to receive from without.
For if it had any of the forms which are to be
impressed upon it, when it had to receive an opposite
impression, or any other, it would render
the image ill, retaining traces of its own form.
It must be free from all form in order to receive
all forms : as those who fabricate sweet smelling
fluids take as their bases a fluid destitute of all
smell, or as those who would make impressions
on a soft substance, remove all previous impressions
and make the surface as smooth as possible.
And thus this thing in order to receive completely
the likeness of the eternal models, must by its
nature be free from all form.
THE TIM.ZEUS. 391
" And hence this mother and receptacle of all
visible and sensible things, we do not call earth,
nor air, nor fire, nor water, nor anything produced
from them, or from which these are produced.
It is an invisible and formless thing, the recipient
of everything, participating in a certain way- of
the intelligible, but a way very difficult to seize.
And of this matter, fire is the burning part, water
is the wet part, and earth and air are the earthy
and airy parts."
So far I think it must be allowed that the
assumption of a first matter has not much helped
Plato to an explanation of the differences of the
four elements. Accordingly, he seems to feel that 25
he has still his part to begin ; and goes back to
his fundamental principles to prove that there
must be some real difference, because intelligence
and opinion are two different things : that is, that
because there must be a science of nature, there
must be something which can be the object of
science. And he again asserts the necessity of 26
eternal and indestructible ideas, of transitory objects
of sense copies of these, and of the eternal
space, which affords a seat to all generated things :
perceptible by a bastard reason, independent of
the senses, and which we see as it were in a dream.
And yet once more he re-states this doctrine of 27
three kinds of things, and says that these three
things, Essence, Space, and Change existed before
the heavens were made. But he now begins to
describe the process of creation in a manner which
is curious.
" The Nurse of production, moistened, touched
by fire, receiving the forms of earth and air, and
the consequent influences, became manifold, and
the powers which acted in it not being in equilibrium,
but swaying this way and that, moved
392 THE TIM/EITS.
the different kinds of things this way and that, so
that they became separated.
" As in a winnowing machine used for cleaning
the corn from the chaff, the things in it are shaken,
the heavier fall in one place, the lighter in another,
and settle there : so the four kinds of things
being shaken in the receptacle, were divided by
being shaken ; the like being separated from the
unlike, the like coming together, and so the different
things occupied different regions. Before
this they were in disorder and confusion. And
thus, when God set about ordering the universe,
fire, water, earth and air had some traces of their
form, but were in the condition which belonged
to the absence of deity. And taking them in this
state, God made them distinct in form and number.
And now let us try to tell you what this distinction
was ; using language out of the usual course
of custom. This I may venture to do, since you
are not strangers to the methods of mathematical
science, and such I must needs use in this exposition."
I conceive that we are here arrived at the
point to which in this part of his system, Plato
has been all along tending ;—the theory of a difference
of the four elements, arising from their
being the first matter in four different geometrical
forms, namely, four of the five regular solids.
The properties of these solids are not easy to
prove in a very simple way ; Plato's mode of
dealing with them is unnecessarily complex; so
that I believe it will be best to give some of his
results only ; those which most mark the relation
of his to other systems of philosophy.
The five figures of which we have spoken are
solid figures having three dimensions, as it is
termed by geometers ;—length, breadth, and depth;
THE TIMIEHs. 393
and Plato begins by claiming this as an argument
for his theory.
" First, that fire, earth, water and air are bodies, 28
is evident to every one. Now every kind of body
must have depth (as well as length and breadth),
and that which has depth must be inclosed by pl anes."
It might be expected that he would proceed to
treat of the properties of these solids as solids:
but this he does not do. He considers their surfaces
only, remarks that their surfaces must be
composed of triangles—for every plane can be
resolved into triangles—and goes on to distinguish
different kinds of triangles,—isosceles, right-angled,
equilateral, and the scalene triangle which is
the half of an equilateral. And he reasons entirely
upon the surfaces of the solids, these surfaces
being thus divided into triangles. He says :
" These triangles we assume to be the principle
of fire and of the other elementary bodies; proceeding
according to probability combined with demonstration.
As to the higher principles of these principles,
God knows them, and man, who is sufficiently dear
to God to be allowed to know them."
Meaning, of course, that he does not pretend
to any ulterior and more fundamental analysis.
He then proceeds to say on what grounds he will
select the bodies which he asserts to be the forms
of the four elements.
" We must see what are the four kinds of
bodies which are most perfect, and which being
unlike one to another, are capable of being separated
into parts and thus made one out of another.
If we can discover this, we shall have the proof
of the generation of earth and fire, and the intermediate
elements which are there by rules of proportion
:" as was shown in a former part.
He then proceeds to point out what he regards
394 THE TIM/EUS.
as the most beautiful form of triangle, which is
the half of an equilateral triangle. The supreme
beauty of this figure he asserts very emphatically :
referring perhaps to contemporary controversies.
" Why it is so, it would be long to tell : but
if any one can discover and demonstrate that this
is not so, we offer a friendly prize."
He then proceeds to speak of the other condition
which the elementary bodies are to fulfil;
namely, that they must be capable of decomposition
and recomposition. This we must explain in
detail further on. He remarks that these are the
four kinds of bodies, but that three of them only
are capable of being resolved into one another. ,
This is a defect in the theory; but even this possibility
of analysis and synthesis so far is obtained
only by interpreting analysis and synthesis in a very
unexpected manner, as we shall see. But he proceeds
first to explain more precisely the nature of
the four bodies. This may be expressed much
more simply than he expresses it, for he divides
the faces of the solids into triangles in a manner
which complicates their generation. I shall therefore
here simplify his exposition.
29 " The first kind is formed of four equilateral
triangles, of which three angles being united form
a solid angle ; and there will be four such angles,
and the figure will be a regular tetrahedron.
" The second kind is composed of eight equilateral
triangles, which form solid angles consisting
of four plane angles, and then we have a regular
octahedron.
" The third kind has twenty faces which are
equilateral triangles, and twelve solid angles,
bounded each by five plane angles.
" The fourth kind of body is the cube, contained
by six square faces.
THE TIM/EUS. 395
•
" There is a fifth combination, the pentagonal
dodecahedron. This is not the figure of any of
the elements, and God used it in figuring the Universe."
The occurrence of these five regular bodies
suggests to him a question as to the plurality of
worlds.
" A person carefully reflecting on what has 30
been said, might doubt whether there are an infinite
number of worlds, or a finite number. The
first is the opinion of an ignorant man : but whether
there be worlds one or five, might be more
reasonably doubted. Our opinion is that there is
but one : others may think differently."
That is, it being determined to use this doctrine
of five regular solids in cosmogony, it might
be doubted whether it should be made the basis of
a theory that there are five worlds, or that there
are five elements, or, as Plato asserts, four elements
with an outstanding geometrical solid.
Having taken this latter course, Plato has to
distribute the four solids among the four elements.
And in doing this, I must say that his reasons are
quite as philosophical and conclusive as that of the
assertors of atoms in our own time.
" Having settled the four kinds of bodies we
must distribute them among fire and earth and air
and water. And to earth we must give the cubical
kind ; for of the four kinds, the earth is most
stable and most plastic. It must be that which
has the steadiest basis : and the square is a surer
basis than a triangle."
It does not appear how Plato conceived that
the cube conformed to the condition of plasticity;
but it is true that the cube alone is the figure of
which an assemblage can be put together so as to
fill space.
396 THE TIM US.
" In giving this form to earth we best preserve
probability; and to water, the least mobile of the
other forms, and the most mobile to fire, and the
intermediate form to air : also, the smallest form
to fire, and the greatest to water, and the intermediate
to air. Arid again ; the most acute to fire,
and the next in this respect to air, and the third
to water.
" That, then, which has the fewest bases, must
be the most mobile, and piercing, and the sharpest,
and the lightest, as being composed of the
fewest parts : and the second in these respects
must be the second ; and the third, the third.
" Let then according to right reason and probability
the solid pyramid [the tetrahedron is a
triangular pyramid] be the element and seed of
fire. And the second in order (the octahedron) let
us call the element of air. And the third (the
icosahedron) the element of water.
" And these elementary particles of each kind
we must conceive as so small that singly they are
invisible, but masses of large numbers of them are
visible.
" And the proportions of their numbers and
motions and other powers were arranged by God,
according to the necessity which obeys reason (as
has been said), and so were fitted together and
harmonized."
We then come to the analysis and synthesis
of these elements. And here we find that in order
to carry out his notion of resolving one element
into parts and recomposing these parts as another
element, he is compelled to understand this resolution
and recomposition in a way very different
from that which we should have expected, from
his laying so much stress, in the outset, on the
consideration that the elements must have solid
THE TIM/EUS. 397
figures. We should have expected that he would
show how a tetrahedron for instance may be resolved
into solid parts which can make up a cube :
and the like. But this he does not do ; nor indeed
is it geometrically possible. What he does
is to take the surfaces of the solid figures, as if
they were hollow boxes ; and to show how, retaining
each face unbroken, these surfaces may be
separated and made into other hollow boxes. In
this way it is clear that as the tetrahedron, octahedron,
and icosaliedron have all faces which are
equilateral triangles, they may to a certain extent
be converted into one another. The cube cannot
enter into such conversions, for a square cannot
be made up of equilateral triangles.
" As the consequence of all that we have said 31
concerning the kinds of which the elements are
composed this seems probable: Earth, if it meet
with fire and is divided by its sharp points, might
be carried about, either in the fire in which it was
dissolved, or in a mass of air or of water in which
it happened to be, until falling in with parts of its
own kind, they should be fitted together and again
become earth : for it could never become another
kind.
" But if water be separated by fire, or by air,
it may become one body of fire and two of air.
"And the particles of air arising from the dissolution
of one body might become two of fire."
These assertions sound strangely like anticipations
of the propositions of some atomic theory,
such as that of modern chemists. But if we apply
the mode of explanation which I have announced,
we shall see that these are obvious numerical
truths. Water consists of particles which have
twenty sides, all of them being equilateral triangles.
If these be divided into two eights and four,
398 THE TIM2EUS.
they make two octahedrons and one tetrahedron,
that is, two particles of water and one of fire.
And these particles of air, which have eight
sides, may become each two particles of fire which
have four sides. And the same explanation applies
to the other examples.
" And again, when fire is taken up in air, water
or earth, and overmastered by their resistance, its
relative quantity being small, and is broken up,
two particles of fire may be united in one of air ;
and if air be broken up, two particles and a half
of air may make a particle of water."
We have then some further consequences asserted,
depending upon the principle that like cannot
produce any change in like; and upon the motion
of one element whose particles are smaller and
fewer, being conquered by another, whose particles
are larger and more numerous ; and thus from
fire may come air, and from air water. And thus
the particles, by the motion of the receptacle, are
driven into the places where similar particles are.
But these properties are not so definite as those
already mentioned, and the account of them need
not be dwelt on. He then goes on : [I simplify
and abridge a little :]
" And thus are formed the simple bodies or
first elements. And the different kinds of things
which occur are formed from the combination of
these elements. And some have smaller, some
larger elements, and hence a number of species of
things belonging to each element.
32 " Again, as to the motions of these elements.
In uniformity (that is, a space filled with particles
of one kind) there can be no motion. There can
be no motion without a mover and a moved ; and
these must be things of two different kinds. The
elements in separating themselves into kinds, have
THE TIM/EUS. 399
not finished their movements. They are all contained.
in the spherical universe which compasses
them on every side, and will not allow a void
space to exist.
" The bodies formed of the largest particles
leave larger void spaces between their particles,
those formed of smaller particles leave smaller.
The motion of condensation pushes the smaller
particles into the interstices of the larger. The
smaller separate the larger, the larger compress
the smaller ; and thus each get into their allotted
place. Fire is the most diffused as the most attenuated
; air the next ; and so on. And thus the
inequality being constantly kept up, there is and
always will be constant motion of the elements."
He then proceeds to explain how different
kinds of bodies are constituted of these first elements
• and this explanation, though undoubtedly
fanciful and arbitrary, is by its ingenuity and extent
worthy of being placed by the side of any
atomic hypothesis hitherto propounded. The part
which we have just quoted, in which mention is
made of an element composed of smaller particles
filling up the interstices of the larger particles, is
curiously like the hypothesis of Descartes concerning
the primitive constitution of the Universe. I
will take the points separately.
What is Light?
" There are several kinds of fire : Flame, and 33
that which, issuing from flame, does not burn, but
gives Light to the eyes ; and that [Heat] which,
when the flame is extinguished, remains in the
bodies which have been enflamed."
What are Mists and Clouds?
" There are several kinds of air. The most
pure part which is called ether (which makes a
clear sky), and the more turbid which is mist and
400 THE TIM US.
gloom, and other the like things without names,
formed by the irregularity of the triangles."
Why does water melt and freeze, grow hot and
cold ?
" Water is divided into two kinds, the fluid
and the fusible. The fluid kind, containing small
and unequal particles, can easily be moved by itself
and by other bodies, on account of the inequality
of its particles (according to a principle already
asserted). The fusible kind composed of large
and equal parts, is more stable, heavy and compact
on account of its uniformity; but when, fire
entering it and dissolving it, it loses its uniformity,
it partakes more of motion, and becoming easily
mobile, and pushed by the contiguous air against
the earth, it melts, as we call the destruction of
the mass, and flows, as we express its movement
on the ground. And again when the fire escapes
out of it, and the surrounding air, pressed by it,
compresses the fluid mass, and fills the places
which the fire had occupied, and concentrates
it ; the fluid thus compressed, resuming its uniformity,
when the fire, the cause of inequality, is
removed, is again made throughout like to itself.
This departure of the fire we call cooling, and the
condensation which follows we call freezing."
What is Gold?
" Of all the substances that we call fusible
water, (it appears that all fusible substances are
kinds of water,) that which is formed of the smallest
and most uniform particles in the most condensed
state, a peculiar kind, known by its shining
and yellow colour, is Gold, the most precious of
treasures, condensed by its passage through the
rock. The matrix of gold, which on account of its
density is very hard, and is blackened, is called
Adamas.
THE TIMÆUS. 401
What are the other Metals ?
"The kind of fusible water which is formed by
the union of parts almost as small as those of gold,
has several kinds, more dense than gold, and including
a small part of fine earth, so as to be
harder, but lighter on account of having large
interstices within. One kind of this shining and
compact fusible water is brass. But when the
earthy part which is mixed with it, when by
age it is separated from it, and becomes itself
visible, it is called rust.
" And it would not be difficult to go on with
the like explanations, if any one, following the
aspect of probabilities for the sake of recreation,
digressing from the study of eternal essences,
should seek a harmless pleasure, and a prudent
and moderate amusement. So for the present let
us go on with the like probable accounts of
things."
What are Hail, Snow, Frost?
" When fluid water is separated from fire and
air, it becomes more uniform and is compressed by
the elements which have left it, and thus made
rigid. That which is so affected at a height above
the earth is called hail: that upon the earth, ice.
And that which is only half rigid, above the earth,
is snow ; but that which is condensed upon the
earth, from dew, is called hoar-frost."
We then come to vegetable matters. What
are Wine, Oil, &c. ?
" The numerous kinds of water, mixed with
each other, and strained through the plants which
the earth produces, are, as a general class, called
,juices: and being different on account of different
mixtures, form kinds of which many have no
names. But four of these kinds which contain
fire, being very noticeable, have received names.
PLAT. in. D D
402 'THE TIMÆUS.
One is Wine, which warms the body and the soul.
The kind which is smooth, and divides the visual
light, and is hence bright and shining and glossy
to see, is the class of Oils : Pitch, and Castor Oil,
and Common Oil, and other substances of like
qualities. That which opens the ducts of the
mouth, and thus produces sweetness, is called Honey.
That which dissolves the flesh, and is of a foamlike
burning quality, is distinguished from other
juices and called Opium."
35 We have next the different kinds of earths
explained in the same way : stones, some of which,
composed of equal and uniform parts, are transparent
and beautiful. Then potter s clay, then nitre
(XiTpov) and salt, substances dear to the gods.
Afterwards we have bodies composed of earth
and water ; and the reason why some things are
soluble by water, and others fusible by fire. Of
the latter kind are glass and fusible stones ; of
the former, wax and gums. These I shall not give
in detail.
Next we have the explanation of the sensations
produced by different bodies. The account of the
sensation produced by fire is quite in the manner
of the atomic physiologists of the last century.
36 " We have almost completely explained the
way in which different things are produced by
common and interchangeable elements ; we must
now try to explain the causes of the sensations
which they produce. We must throughout suppose
a capability of sensation ; and yet we have
not yet explained the nature of the flesh and its
accompaniments, and the mortal part of the soul.
We cannot explain the nature of the thing sensible
without speaking of the sentient : nor of this without
that. Yet we cannot go on with both together.
We must therefore take one first and then
r -
THE TIMÆUS. 403
go back to the other. We will then first speak of
the operation of body on soul.
" First, why we call fire hot, we may see in
this way : we must consider the penetration and
cutting of the body which it produces. For that
it is a sharp feeling, every one knows. And if we
recollect the nature of the particles of fire, we shall
see that it produces this effect by the smoothness
of its sides, the acuteness of its angles, and the
velocity of its impact, which make it penetrating
and piercing whatever it falls upon. And thus it
is fitted to cut and mince our bodies, and this is
what we call hot; thermon, hot, resembling kerma,
mince.
" The opposite sensation is easy to explain, but
we will not omit it. Among the fluids which surround
the body, those of which the particles are
largest, press and expel the smaller, but not being
able to take their places, they compress the humid
parts ; and this produces a conflict and a struggle,
which is called a shudder, and the sensation is
called cold.
" We call that hard to which our flesh yields :
that soft which yields to our flesh."
We then come to the discussion of a point 38
which has had great importance in physical philosophy
at all times, and is still a puzzle for beginners
; the distinction of heavy and light, up and
down. Plato had completely got over that prejudice
of the reality of this distinction which stands
in our way when we begin to teach the rotundity
of the earth. Whether his opinions as to the
cause of the ascent of light bodies were exactly
true, is a matter of controversy. We shall see
what he says.
" The qualities of heavy and light must be explained
by explaining up and down. It is quite
D D 2
404 THE TIMÆUS.
an error to suppose that there are two regions, just
opposite ; down, to which bodies having any mass
are carried, and up, to which everything goes with
reluctance. For the heaven being spherical in
shape, its extreme parts are all equally distant
from the center, and the center is everywhere opposite
to the circumference. This then being the
case, it is quite inappropriate to speak of up and
down. For the middle cannot be said to be either
up or down: it is in the middle. And the circumference
cannot have a middle ; as all its parts are
alike, no one can be more middle than the opposite.
When a thing has all its parts alike, how
can we apply opposite names to the parts?
" If there were a regular solid body in the
middle of the universe, it would not be carried towards
any of the extreme parts, on account of the
uniform condition of all its sides. And if any one
were to walk round this body on its surface, he
would come into a position with his feet opposite
to his former position, and stopping at different
places, he would call the same part of it now up
and then down. And thus to divide the spherical
universe into two regions, up and down, is absurd.
" What then is the origin of these terms, up
and down, and what we mean by them, we must
now explain ; and for that purpose we make the
following supposition. If into that region of the
universe where the fire is mainly placed, and to
which it is carried, any one were to ascend,
(having the power to do this,) and were to 'take
portions of the fire and put them in the basins
of a pair of scales, and were to raise the balance
by force, and lift the fire into a region
(c'4a?) strange to it, it is plain that the smaller
portion of the fire would yield to this force more
easily than the larger. For the same force being
THE TIM/ US. 405
employed in raising the two, the smaller must
needs yield to this force more easily, the larger
less easily : and this latter would be said to be
heavy, and to tend downwards; former, to be
light, and to tend upwards. And the same applies
to the place where we are. If here upon the earth
we take separate parts of the earth, or of earthy
substances, and lift them by force into a region
strange to them, both will incline to their like : but
the less Will obey the force more readily than the
larger. And we call this light, and call upward
the direction in which we force it to go : and the
opposite to this, heavy and downward. And thus
these kinds of things have their different properties
because the regions where the mass of them is
collected are different. For two things of which
one is heavy in one place, and the other in an opposite
place, and one which goes upwards in one
place and the other in another, go opposite ways,
or oblique to one another. But what we are to
bear in mind is, that the direction towards the like
makes each element heavy, and the region to which
it thus tends, down; and the opposite, the opposite."
The account of up and down as directions to
and from the center of the universe, which Plato
identifies with the center of the earth, is in conformity
with our modern views. But heavy and
light Plato conceives as qualities which result
from the tendency of each element to its own region;
and hence air and fire tend to go upwards
and water and earth downwards. A more correct
view is that lightness is merely a lesser degree of
heaviness, and that light bodies ascend because
they are extruded by heavier bodies which descend.
Some of the Greek philosophers had
obtained this truer view.
40G THE TIMÆUS.
Plato goes on to explain the nature and causes
of other sensations; as agreeable and painful, and
the like. These are explained by the largeness
and smallness, quickness and slowness, mobility
and immobility, contractions and expansions, and
other qualities, of the particles, and of the parts
38 which they assail. In this way it is explained
why the soft parts of the body are very sensitive,
the hard parts, as bone and hair, less so. And
again, proceeding to special parts and organs of
the body, why tastes are bitter, sour, sharp : what
39 are bubbles : what is fermentation and leaven:
what is sweet.
40 The same kind of explanation is applied to
odours; all odours, he says, are more subtle than
water and more coarse than air, which he illustrates
by the experiment of one man breathing the
air expired by another, which is, he says, without
smell.
41 He then speaks of hearing ; quick motions, he
says, produce an acute, slower, a grave sound :
even motions, a smooth sound, the opposite, a
rough one. He then takes the subject of visual
impressions, which, as a further specimen of this
• philosophy, I will translate more at length.
42 " There is a fourth kind of sensation, in which
we must distinguish many varieties which exist,
which collectively we call colours; a kind of light
which flows from bodies and agrees and conspires
with the light from the eyes, so as to produce the
sensation (of vision). Concerning the visual light
we have already spoken. And with regard to colours,
this is a reasonable account. The particles
which proceed from bodies and fall on the vision
are, some less, some greater, and some equal in
size to those which proceed from the vision. Those
which are equal are not, perceived by sense, and
THE TIMÆUS. 407
we call them (the bodies) transparent. The greater
and the lesser particles contract and expand the
visual light, in the same way that hot and cold
things do the flesh, and bitter and sharp things
the tongue ; and white and black is the same opposition
in another kind of organ. And thus what
expands the visual light is white, that which contracts
it is black. But when the external light
expands the visual light up to the very eyes, and
opens the passages of the eyes in a forcible way,
it melts them so that there flows from them that
mixture of water and fire which we call tears. And
when the visual light, itself a kind of fire, comes out
to meet the other, and this inner light leaps forth
like a flash of lightning, while the light which
is entering from without is extinguished by the
humidity, and when all kinds of colours are formed
by this conflict, we call this dazzling, and the
body which produces this effect we call bright and
' shining. And the intermediate kind of light which
comes to the humidity of the eyes and is mixed
with it, but is not shining, when the splendour of
the fire traversing the liquid produces a colour like
blood, we call it red. And the shining part mixed
with red and with white becomes yellow : but the
proportions of this mixture, even if one knew them,
It would not be worth while to announce, since it
would be impossible to give the exact proportion
and the demonstrative reason for it.
" Red mixed with black and white is purple;
and brown is produced when black is mixed with
these, more burnt. Orange is produced by the
mixture of yellow and brown : grey a mixture of
white and black : wan is a mixture of white and
yellow. White joined with brightness and falling
upon full black produces blue; blue mixed with
white produces pale green ; orange mixed with
408 THE TIMÆUS.
black, dark green. The other colours are evident
from these, namely, by what mixtures the explanation
may be given. But if any one speculating on
these subjects were to put them to the test of trial,
he would show an ignorance of the difference of
the human and the divine nature : for God can mix
things together into one and then separate the one
into many, having at the same time the knowledge
and the power ; but man is not able to do
either the one or the other of these things, nor
ever will be able."
There are several curious points in this passage.
The colours we can only identify in a general
way, by their usual meanings and their mixtures.
The relation of mixture is here intended to
rest upon the general appearance of the colours.
Plato, as we have seen, protests against any attempt
to verify it by trial, as something which shows an
ignorance of the real nature of knowledge. This
sentiment serves to show how slowly the notion •
of experimental philosophy came into view. Sciences,
according to Plato, had to do with mathematical
relations of which the relations of visible
things were dim and imperfect approximations.
The phenomena might suggest the true theory to
the philosopher, as in the case of astronomy : but
if they did not do this at once, it was vain to hope
to approach nearer and nearer to the truth by continued
and persevering observations of the phenomena.
We may remark, however, that the classification
and arrangement of colours, as the result of
the mixture of other colours, is even yet in an incomplete
and unsatisfactory state ; and we have
not any such arrangement which will stand the
test of experiments of all kinds.
It is well known that the modern supposed
_ -
THE TIMÆUS. 409
analysis and arrangement of colours was so far
unsatisfactory to Göthe that he revived the ancient
doctrine of Aristotle. This is however materially
different from the scheme of Plato.
Plato then proceeds to terminate this part of
his subject in a manner which still further illustrates
his notion of the nature of science and its
objects.
"All these things existing in this manner from 43
necessity, the artificer of the most beautiful and
best of works (the world), taking them from the
collection of the things that are, when he created
that complete and perfect God (the world), used, as
causes that were to minister to his purpose ; and in
doing this, he himself wove in good, as an object,
into the texture of these existing' things. And
thus we must distinguish two kinds of Cause, the
Necessary, and the Divine ; and must seek the
divine in everything, for the sake of a happy life :
(this search being our greatest good.) This we must
do so far as our faculties admit. And we must
also study the necessary causes for the sake of these
divine causes, considering that we cannot without
those former proceed to these latter at which we
aim; either conceive or attain them."
We see that Plato is still true to his general
purpose. Man has to endeavour to learn how all
things are made for the best. But the necessary
properties of things, mathematical properties and
the like, are to be used as steps in the reasoning by
which we obtain our optimist system. This opinion
is neither unreasonable nor extravagant : though
the necessary properties with which he deals are,
in this instance, very arbitrarily and fancifully
assumed and applied.
" And now, ' he says, " having, like careful
workmen got our materials collected in these two
410 THE TIMÆUS.
kinds of cause, out of which we are to weave the
rest of our discourse, let us go back to the beginning,
and rapidly run over the course which has
led us to this point, and try to add a fitting conclusion
to what was said before."
He then resumes briefly his account of the
creation of things by God, and of the manner in
which He committed the creation of man's mortal
frame to the subordinate Gods ; and proceeds to a
survey of the parts of the human body on his usual
principles. I abridge the earlier part.
44 " These things being at first in disorder, God
established measure and proportion among them.
Till he had done this, there was no real distinction
of elements, as fire and water. God reduced them
to order, (that is, by establishing mathematical distinctions
among them,) and then employed them to
form the universe. He himself was the artificer
who formed the divine creatures ; but the construction
of mortal creatures he committed to the subordinate
Gods his offspring."
This statement we already had in a former place,
before the distinctions of the elements were spoken
of. He proceeds with the description of this subordinate
creation, the construction of the mortal part
of man. This is given in very poetical phrases.
" These Gods, imitating Him, and receiving
from him the immortal principle of the soul, fashioned
and fitted to it the whole body as its
vehicle ; and then joined to the immortal part
another different kind of soul, the Mortal Soul, a
part which contained inevitably formidable attributes;
Pleasure, the most seductive temptation to
evil, and Pain, that expels good ; and further,
Rashness and Fear, blind guides ; Anger, so hard
to be counselled ; and Hope easily drawn onwards
by the unreasoning senses and exposed to the as-
THE TIMÆUS. 411
saults of every liking. And mixing them together
according to their necessary qualities, they composed
the mortal soul.
" And then, careful not to pollute the divine
part more than was absolutely necessary, they gave
to the mortal part a habitation in another part of
the body (than the head) ; constructing an isthmus
and boundary between the head and the breast,
the neck, to separate them.
" In the breast, and what is called the chest,
they placed the mortal soul. And as one part of
this was better and one worse, they separated the
cavity of the body into two parts, as into a man's
chamber and a woman's chamber, putting the diaphragm
as a partition between them.
" And the part which involved Courage and
Anger, a contentious portion, they placed nearest
the head, between the diaphragm and the neck, that
it might take counsel of reason, and in common
with it, might restrain the desires, when they were
disposed to rebel against the superior authority residing
in the acropolis : " (the reason, residing in
the head.)
This notion of anger being a useful ally of
reason against desire, we have already had, as a
leading part of the doctrine of the Republic. Plato
goes on still further to give an anatomical locality
to the psychological sentiments. First, as to the
use of the Heart.
" The heart, the centre of the veins and the 45
source of the all-pervading blood, they placed in
the guard-chamber of these satellites of the reason ;
in order that when the fierceness of anger was
roused by news brought from the reason, that any
unjust act was committed, through external influences
without or through the desires within, every
sensitive part of the body might swiftly, through
412 THE TIMÆUS.
those passages (the veins), become aware of the
commands and threats of the reason, and might
leave the better part of us to exercise its authority."
Next, as to the use of the Lungs.
" As a provision for the palpitation of the heart
in the expectation of danger and in the excitement
of anger, the Gods, knowing that the fire of the
bodily frame would produce these swellings of
passion, contrived the mechanism of the lungs, and
annexed it to the heart, making its substance soft
and bloodless, and besides, full of cavities like a
sponge, that it might receive air and fluid, and
might cool and refresh and soothe the heat of the
heart. For this end, they made the passages of
the windpipe open into the lung, and wrapped it
round the heart like a soft cushion, that when passion
arrived at its vehemence, the heart, beating
against an object yielding and cooling, might be
relieved and made better able to obey reason in the
middle of indignation."
Then the Stomach is explained.
46 " As to the part of the Soul which has an appetite
for meat and drink and the things necessary for
the body, they placed it in the part between the diaphragm
and the navel : establishing there a sort of
rack and manger to feed the body. They tethered
it there, as a kind of wild beast indeed, but one
which must be fed, if the human race is to exist.
They placed it there, that feeding at its manger at
a distance from the deliberative part, it might produce
the least trouble and disturbance, and might
allow it to deliberate in quiet, as to what was best
for the good of all."
The account of the Liver is curious ; and is obviously
suggested by the practice of examining
that part in beasts sacrificed, and drawing from it
an augury of the future.
•
THE TIMÆUS. 413
" The Gods, knowing that the stomach could
not understand reason, and that if it felt any sensations,
it was not natural for it to care for the reasons
of them, but that it would be mainly led away
by images and phantasms, both by night and by
day, they contrived the liver and placed it near the
stomach. They made it dense and bright, and
sweet and yet containing a bitter : in order that
the natural power proceeding from the intellect,
being reflected here as in a mirror which gives types
and visible images of things, might produce fear
when that power should come in a menacing form,
and might then use the bitter part and mix it with
the whole liver, and produce bilious colours, contracting
it and making it rough and wrinkled ; and
partly by curving the great lobe out of its straight
position and contracting it, partly by obstructing
and closing the ducts of the liver, might cause pain
and loathing : and again, that when it should present
images of an opposite kind, by a serene influence
arising from intelligence, it should leave the
bitter part in quiet, so that it should have no disposition
to move or to assail the opposite nature,
and should use its natural sweetness to act upon it ;
and that making all its parts straight and smooth, it
might make the part of the soul which is near the
liver become tranquil and calm : and that thus it
might give during the night a due tendency to
divination in sleep, since it had no participation of
reason and wisdom."
All this description of the liver in the Greek
forms a single sentence, full of poetical phrases,
and with the clauses loosely and confusedly connected
with each other. The leading thought
appears to be, that the liver is the seat of those
feelings from which the power of divination arises;
suggested, perhaps, as I have said, by the sacri-
.
414 THE TIMÆUS.
ficial ceremonies of the time. That the capacity,
existing in some men, of those fits of enthusiasm
which rhapsodists and diviners manifested, was
regarded by Plato as something far inferior to the
use of reason, we know from the Ion. The same
subject is here pursued. And the faculty is here
also represented as an inferior part of the human
constitution.
47 " The subordinate Gods who framed us, bearing
in mind the commands of their Father, when
he commanded them to make the mortal race as
perfect as possible, thus arranged even the bad
part of us, that it might have some touch of truth,
and so they here placed the divining faculty. And
we have a sufficient proof that God gave this
faculty from consideration for the weakness of
reason in man. For no man in full possession of
his reason is seized by a true inspired impulse
such as leads to divination, but only when his
faculties are chained by sleep, or turned into a
devious path by disease or an enthusiastic nature.
But it is the task of a rational man to understand
these notices, to recollect dreams sent in sleep or
visions presented by an enthusiastic nature, and to
search the meaning of all these phantasms, and to
determine what they signify and to whom, of good
or evil, past or present.
" But he who has felt these transports, and
still more he who is still under their influence, has
it not for his office to judge of what he sees or
hears; for as was well said long ago, to know what
belongs to one's self and to do it, and to know
one's self, is for a wise man only.
" And hence law and custom appoint a class of
prophets or expounders, as judges over the inspired
enthusiasts. Some call these, as well as the others,
Diviners; not knowing, what is true, that they are
THE TIMÆUS. 415
the expositors of the enigmatical utterances and
visions of others : they are not properly Diviners,
but may be called Prophets, or Expounders of
what is uttered under enthusiastic inspiration.
" And so the liver was what it is and where it
is, for the sake of divination. And it is in the
living body that it offers the clearest indications of
its office ; but when deprived of life, it becomes
blind, and is too obscure to indicate anything
clearly."
This remark appears intended to throw doubt
upon the practice of divining by the liver of sacrificed
beasts. It is difficult to find appropriate
expressions ; for to call persons diviners who,
require expositors to explain the meaning of the
visions which they see and the voices which they
hear, is somewhat at variance with our usage.
There is still one more of the viscera to be
spoken of, the Spleen. It is thus explained.
" The constitution and seat of that one of the
viscera which is in the neighbourhood of this on
the left side, is to keep the liver clean and bright,
like a plastic mass always ready to be moulded, a
mirror always ready to return images. And hence
when any impurities are engendered about the
liver, the spleen purges them ; and receives them
all into its hollow and bloodless texture; and
thus filled with this excrement it becomes morbidly
large ; and again, when the body is
purged, it diminishes and subsides to its previous
state.
"And thus, as to the Soul, its mortal and its 48
divine part, where it is seated and in what connection,
and on what accounts, we have declared ;
with exact truth, we cannot venture to assert, except
some God should give us the assurance. We
must be content to assert what is probable, and we
416 THE TIMÆUS.
do so the more confidently the more we consider
the subject."
He then proceeds to speak of the other parts of
the body.
48 The bowels :
49 The brain and spinal marrow ;
so The bones : The flesh :
51 The nerves, that is, the tendons of the muscles,
and the muscles :
52 The mouth : The lips :
53 The hair of the head. This may be translated
as a specimen.
" The head it was not well to have either with
a covering of bare bone, on account of the excess
of heat and cold in the different seasons, nor again
to allow it to be made dull and insensible by a thick
covering of flesh. Therefore the flesh was not quite
dried up, so there was formed upon it a rind which
we call the skin. This skin, on account of the
moisture of the brain, formed all round, and grew
and met and formed an enclosure surrounding the
head. The humidity rising through the surface
of the skull, moistened it and gathered the moisture
to the crown of the head, in a sort of knot.
The sutures were of all varied forms, as they were
produced by the periods of the soul and the power
of nourishment ; when these more struggled with
each other, greater, when less, smaller. And the
divine artificer pricked this skin all over with fire,
and as the moisture exuded, the moist and warm
parts went off, but the part which was mixed and
which was the origin of the skin, being carried
upwards by its impulse, went far beyond the head,
having a fineness corresponding to the pricking ;
but on account of the slowness of its growth being
repelled by the surrounding air, it took root within
the skin. And by the action of these causes the
THE TIMÆUS. 417
hair was produced as we see it on the skin ; flexible
like it, but harder and more dense by the condensation
of each hair, which as it removed from
the skin was cooled and condensed.
" And thus the Artificer made our heads hairy,
by the operation of the causes which have been
explained ; intending that instead of flesh, the
hair should, for the safety of the brain, be a light
covering to it, and a shade and shelter against
summer and winter : while it did not prevent the
sensibility of perception."
It is also explained why men have nails on
their fingers.
" In the complicated structure of tendons, bone 54
and skin, which constitutes the fingers, a portion,
mingled of each, was dried and became a hard
skin, having the nature of all the three : and it
was so constructed by these accessory causes ; but
the supreme reason was, that it was so made on
account of future purposes. For those who made
us knew that at a future time there should be
made, from men, women and other animals ; and
they knew that the greater part of these creatures
would have occasion for nails, for various uses.
And thus in the formation of man, they inserted a
sketch of nails. Such are the purposes and the
motives for which they produced the skin, the
hair and the nails."
The next point noticed is the provision of
vegetables as food for man, to prevent his wasting
away for want of fire and air. In consistency
with the character of Timaeus as a Pythagorean
philosopher, vegetables only are spoken of as the
food of man. He says, (I abridge) :
" The Gods, compounding a nature allied to 55
the nature of man, but with other forms and sensations,
made a second kind of living things, trees
PLAT. III. E E
418 THE TIMÆUS.
and vegetables, which at first were wild, but are
now tame, that is, cultured. For all that has life
may be called a living thing; and the kind of
which we now speak has a share of the third kind
of soul which is placed between the diaphragm
and the navel : and this has no intelligence, but
has pleasurable and painful perception: and can
move about itself, but cannot change its place."
We have now a long explanation of the course
of the blood : " The Gods," says Timaeus, " made
two channels along the back, one on the right and
one on the left, along the back-bone." The course
of the veins and arteries is described in a way, as
may be expected, very inexact, but interesting to
those who would trace the early history of anatomy.
The blood is formed from the food, by a
complicated process, in which the lungs are described
as a bag made like a basket for catching
fish ; and in which, by respiration, the blood is
strained from the food.
This matter of respiration is resumed and
treated more in detail. One main point aimed at
is to explain the inspiration of the breath without
assuming a vacuum, which is the ground on which
58 the explanation here proceeds : " since," he says,
" there is no void into which the air in motion
can enter." And this difficulty is solved by assuming
a circulation, so that the air goes in one
way at the same time that it goes out another way
through the rare parts of the flesh ; and this motion,
alternated in opposite directions, is respiration.
59 The cause of this motion is the heat or fire
which is strained from the air by the tissue of the
lungs, and produces the drawing in and sending
out of the breath.
60 The same is asserted to be the cause of the
effect of cupping-glasses, and of the action of swal-
THE TIMÆUS. 419
lowing: naturally, for these are effects of the same
kind, which by other schools were referred to the
operation of a void. He adds, tile same is the
cause of the motions of bodies thrown towards the
sky, or along the earth, and of sounds, whether
they travel quick or slow. (Of course all motions
must depend on this condition of motion.) The
same, he adds, is the cause of the motions of waters,
and of the fall of the thunderbolt, and of the effects,
so much wondered at, of Amber and of the Heraclean
stone ; (motions, as we now say, produced
by electricity and magnetism). In all these cases
there is really no attraction : there is no void : but
there is a circular movement by which each part
comes to its new place. (It is curious to see the
early repugnance to the doctrine of attraction.)
In speaking of sounds here, he cannot omit
the occasion of saying that the relation of grave
and acute sounds produces an impression which,
while it is a pleasure even to unintelligent persons,
supplies to the intelligent a joy, resulting from
the imitation of the divine harmony in mortal
movements.
He then explains that the blood is red, because 61
it results by extracting from all aliments the
triangles which contain the nature of fire.
And that while man is young, tile triangles 62
which belong to it are sharp, and conquer and
divide the triangles of the aliments. But when the
frame is old, its triangles are blunted, and can no
longer so well assimilate the nutriment.
" Finally, when the ties which hold together
the triangles of the spinal marrow no longer hold,
they relax the ties of the soul ; and, she so loosed,
according to her nature, gladly flies away; for all
that is contrary to nature is painful, and what is
according to nature is pleasant. And so it is that
E E 2
420 THE TIMÆUS.
death from disease or wounds is painful ; but that
which arrives at the end of old age according to
nature, is the most painless of deaths, and is indeed
rather accompanied with pleasure than with
pain."
He then enters upon a still more technical part
of physiology, the origin and kinds of diseases.
He does not however begin by treating it as difficult.
He says :
63 " Whence diseases arise, is now evident to
every one. For since there are four elements of
which the body is compounded, Earth, Fire,
Water and Air, the excess or defect of these, and
their transposition from their own place to another,
or a wrong kind of each element, since there are
different kinds of each,—these are the causes of
diseases."
He then goes on to resume the formation of
flesh and nerves, marrow and bones : and adds,
64 That when all this goes on regularly, there
is health ; when otherwise, disease.
When the solution of the flesh sends a corrupt
fluid into the veins, there are produced biles, ichors,
and phlegms. Biles are black or yellow, but all
are rightly included under the name of bile.
Phlegms are sharp or white.
65 And all these things are instruments of disease.
Diseases are of various kinds. They may be di-
66 vided as proceeding from air, phlegm or bile. Air
produces tetanus and opisthotonus: and, thereupon
supervening, fever. White phlegm falling upon
the head gives rise to the sacred disease (epilepsy).
67 All that is called inflammation arises from bile,
mixing with the blood and disturbing its fibres. If
strong enough it penetrates to the marrow and sets
the soul free ; but if not strong enough for this, it
yields, and is repelled into the belly, and escaping
THE TIMÆUS. 421
from the body, like fugitives from a seditious city,
causes diarrheas and dysenteries, and the like.
When the body is diseased by the excess of
fire, fever results ; excess of air produces quotidian
fevers ; of water, tertians ; of earth, quartan fevers.
" So much for the maladies of the body : those 68
of the mind result from these. There are two
kinds of maladies of the mind, Derangement and
Ignorance. When any one has either of these, it
is to be called a disease. We must reckon excessive
pleasures and pains as the greatest of diseases
in the soul. Excessive joy or fear prevents a man
from seeing rightly, and deprives him of reason.
So, excessive sexual desire. People so affected
are erroneously regarded as voluntarily bad, they
are really diseased. No one is bad voluntarily.
Every man becomes what he is by bad habit of
body or bad education. And these mischiefs may
happen to any man in spite of any will of his own."
So the evil humours of the body may disorder
the soul, producing manifold forms of melancholy
and dejection, of rashness and cowardice, of obliviousness
and ignorance.
And add to these, when polities are made by
men thus ill constituted, and corresponding doetrines
circulated publicly, and the studies which
should be the cures of these evils in the young
men are neglected, then all become bad through
two great involuntary causes.
The main cause is in the parents rather than
in the children, in the educators rather than the
educated; and it is therefore important to endeavour
by education and study to remove the evil and
promote the good. But this is a matter for another
discourse.
And the counterpart to this, the cure of dis- 69
eases of the body and mind, is a proper object of
422 THE TIMÆUS.
attention : for it is better to speak of good than
of evil. All good is beautiful, and the beautiful
must be a matter of proportion. Hence an animal
to be good and beautiful must be proportioned.
We attend to proportion in small matters but
neglect it in the greatest. With regard to health
and disease, virtues and vices, no proportion or
disproportion is more important than that of the
body and soul, to which we pay no attention.
A great body and a small soul, a great soul and
an ill-made (as a long-legged) body, disturbs everything.
There is one way of safety for both, that the
body shall not move without the soul, nor the soul
without the body, so that helping each other they
may be balanced and sound.
The mathematician, or any one who pursues
serious studies for the intellect, must be directed
also to take care of the motions of the body, by
joining therewith Gymnastic. And he who forms
the body's habits, must join therewith motions of
the soul, using Music and all philosophy to make
the man truly good and beautiful.
70 And thus all parts must be improved alike,
imitating the general frame of things. The body
must be exercised, to prevent food and drink from
harming it. If any one imitates that which we
have called the Nourisher and Nurse of all, shaking
all things into their proper places, and removing
things which are hostile to one another, he will
avert war and maladies, and will produce health.
Of all motions, that is best which is of itself
and in itself; for this is most congenial to the intellectual
part, and to the motion of the universe.
Other kinds are worse in order : worst of all is that
which is exerted by other bodies in the body quiescent
and lying at rest. Hence gymnastic is best,
THE TIMÆUS. 423
next the motion of a vehicle or a ship. The third
kind, purgation by drugs, is useful when necessary,
but to be avoided by a wise man. For diseases
which are not extremely dangerous are not to
be encumbered by drugs ; diseases are like animals—
each has a certain time to continue. The
triangles of each last a certain time. So if we disturb
the progress of diseases, the small become
great, and one becomes many. And so such things
are to be managed by diet, not by drugs.
And so much for the animal composed of body 71
and soul.
And again he returns to the Soul, and the three
habitations of the three different kinds of Soul.
They are to be kept in harmony.
That which is the most perfect, God has given
to us as a divine guide (8aitzcov). It inhabits the
highest part of us, and by its congeniality with
heaven lifts our body upright.
The movements which are in relation to the
nature of the divine part are to be regulated by
studying the harmonies of the universe.
He proceeds to mention, very briefly, as he 72
says, how other animals are formed, namely, by
metempsychosis. But this part of the speculation
has rather the air of moral satire than of physical
hypothesis. Thus, he says, that cowards, at their
next stage of being, become women, and gives an
account of their organization. And the account of
the men who become birds is understood to be a
satirical description of the philosophers of the Ionic
sect.
" The family of birds, clothed with feathers instead
of hair, is formed from those harmless men of
light natures, who speculate about the skies, but
think in their simplicity that the sense of sight is
the best judge about such matters."
424 THE TIMÆUS.
We have seen how contrary this opinion is to
Plato's own view of the nature of science.
" In like manner quadrupeds spring out of the
men who never occupy themselves with philosophy
at all, and pay no attention to the heavens, because
they never use those motions of the soul which take
place in the head, but obey that Soul which resides
in the chest. In consequence of these habits, their
forelimbs and their heads incline to the earth, as
being earthy ; their back is long by the effect of
indolence.
" And to the most stupid, God has given a still
greater number of feet, that they may crawl still
nearer the earth. These are reptiles.
" The fourth kind, fishes, is produced from
those who are still more stupid ; who are not even
worthy to breathe pure air ; they live in a heavy
and turbid fluid, water.
" And here we end our discourse of the Universe.
Thus has that world been formed which
contains in it all animals, mortal and immortal ;
including all visible things, itself a living visible
thing : a God the object of the senses, image of
that God who is the object of the intellect, greatest
and best, perfect in beauty and structure, the one
only-generated Heaven."
ADDITION TO THE TIMÆUS
I have omitted in my translation the part of
this Dialogue in which Kritias gives an account of
the manner in which Solon received in Egypt the
legend of the island of Atlantis. I postponed that
passage, thinking that it would come in more suitably
as an introduction to the Dialogue entitled
THE TIMÆUS. 425
Kritias, if that Dialogue be received as genuine.
The connexion of these Dialogues is as forming
successive parts of a very large design. In the
Republic, Socrates describes the best possible polity
of a State ; in the Timseus, that philosopher describes
the optimist scheme of the universe ; in the
Kritias, that Athenian politician undertakes to
give a history of the best polity when in a course
of action. But the Kritias, as we possess it, is a
Dialogue which, with reference to this, its professed
object, is of no value ; and if it be Plato's at all,
is a mere introductory fragment. The other introductory
narrative contained in the body of the
Timseus is noticeable, and is often referred to. I
shall therefore briefly translate it. After Socrates
has recapitulated the main points of the Polity, it
is agreed that Timms and Kritias shall continue
the discourse, as has been said. Kritias goes on :
" Listen, Socrates, to a story, strange yet quite 4
true, which Solon, the wisest of the Seven Wise
men, told. He was a great friend of Dropidas my
great grandfather, as he himself mentions in several
parts of his poems ; and /e told it to my grandfather
Kritias, who in his turn told me ;—that this
city of ours did many great things which have
gone into oblivion: and one thing especially, which
we might relate as a proper return to you ; and as
a kind of hymn to the goddess, suitable to the
festival."
Socrates asks what it is.
Ku. "It is an old story : for Kritias was then
near ninety, and I was only ten. It was a public
festival, and our elders set us youths upon making
verses for prizes : and one of our tribe, perhaps by
way of pleasing Kritias, chose Solon for the subject
of his eulogy, and said that besides being so wise
in other things, he was the most noble of poets.
426 THE TIM US.'
The old man Kritias was delighted at this, and
smiling said ; Yes, Amynander, if he had not
practised merely poetry as by-play, but had set
about it in earnest; if he had worked out the legend
which he brought from Egypt, and had not been
turned aside by civil feuds ; he would not have
been inferior to Hesiod or Homer or any of the
poets.—' What was the subject, 0 Kritias?' said
A great event in the history of this city, now
forgotten.'—'Pray tell it us from the beginning what
Solon said, and from whom he heard it.'
5 " There is, he said, in Egypt, at the head of the
Delta, where the Nile divides into two branches,
the Nome or District called Sais ; the inhabitants
of which acknowledge, as their protectress, a goddess
whose Egyptian name is Neith, who, as they
say, is the same as the Athene of the Greeks. The
people are very fond of the Athenians, and Solon
was held in great honour among them. He asked
their priests many questions, and found that what
he and the Greeks in general knew was nothing in
comparison with their knowledge. When he went
back to ancient histories about Phoroneus and
Niobe, and the deluge of Deucalion and Pyrrha,
and their progeny, and tried to calculate backwards
the period of these events ; an old priest said to
him : Solon, Solon, you Greeks are for ever children
: there is not an old man among you.' And he
replied, How do you mean that ?'
" You are all young, he answered, in your
minds. You have no ancient traditions or timehoary
doctrines in them. And the reason is this.
There have been many destructions of the human
race, and will be many more ;—the greatest, caused
by fire and by water ; shorter interruptions, by
other causes. Your story about Phaeton—how
that he tried to drive the chariot of the Sun his
THE TIMÆUS. 42 7
father, and could not keep the right track, and so
burnt up the earth till he was himself killed by
a thunderbolt—this sounds like a fable ; but the
real meaning is, that in the course of the revolutions
of the skies, at long intervals, there comes
a catastrophe when the things on earth are destroyed
by fire ; and then those who live high up
in mountains and in dry places perish, rather than
those who live near rivers and the sea : and our
Nile, which is such a benefit to us in other ways,
is our salvation in such a case. And on the other
hand, when the Gods send on the earth a deluge
of water to purify it, those who are occupied in the
mountains, herdsmen and shepherds, are saved,
while the inhabitants of your cities are swept into
the sea by the rivers. But our plains are never
inundated by showers, so that we have preserved
our most ancient monuments. There are always
men upon the earth ; but with you, when the important
events in their history have been recorded
in letters or otherwise, there comes some watery
catastrophe from the heavens, and leaves nobody
but the illiterate and ignorant among you, and
you have to begin again from the beginning, knowing
nothing that has happened in old times. Such
stories as you have been telling us, Solon, sound
to us like children's tales. You speak of one deluge
only : there have been many. You do not know
that the noblest race of men that has lived was in
your region, though you and all your countrymen
derive your origin from a small remnant of those
revolutions. For in ancient days, Solon, before
the great destruction, that which is now Athens,
was the greatest in war and the best governed in
peace of all cities that have ever been heard of.
" When Solon heard this, he was greatly in- 6
terested, and entreated the priests to tell him the
428 THE TIMÆUS.
whole history of those ancient progenitors of his
race. This, said the priest, I am quite willing to do,
for the love of you and of our common country,
and especially out of respect for the goddess who
has been the guardian both of your city and of
ours—Athens, offspring of the earth and of Vulcan,
and this our Sais a thousand years later. Subsequently
to the establishment of our city, our
books speak of a period of eight thousand years :
and with the laws and the noblest exploits of the
Athenians during these nine thousand years I am
going to entertain you."
The priest then proceeds to relate, on the
authority, as he says, of their ancient books, some
features of polity, belonging in common to the
ancient Athenian city and to the land of Egypt
as it then existed ; these being also features of
the Platonic polity, and thus tending to identify
Plato's imaginary city with Solon's traditionary
city : especially the distinction of castes or hereditary
trades, which resembles the division of classes
in the Platonic polity.
" You will see, he says, if you make the comparison,
that there is a great resemblance between
your former institutions and our present ones—
the class of priests; that of artisans in which each
trade is kept separate; that of herdsmen, that of
hunters, that of husbandmen : and again, the
soldiers, who are soldiers and nothing else. And
the arms which we use, the spear and the shield,
(we having adopted them first of all Asiatics,) are
the same which you use; the goddess (Athene)
having taught you and us the use of them. And
again, you know how much the study of science
has been encouraged :—from the study of the
universe to soothsaying and medicine, and also
the sciences that follow these."
THE TIMÆUS. 429
He then describes this original Athens as especially
favoured in its climate, disposition, and laws;
and proceeds to recite events which look like an
anticipation of that cardinal portion of Athenian
history, the Persian wars.
" By this city there were many and great deeds
done, which you may read of with admiration ;
but one in especial, surpassing the rest. This
your city checked an overbearing invasion of Europe
and Asia, which came upon them from the
Atlantic sea. For that sea then contained, outside
of what you call the Pillars of Hercules, an island
greater than Libya and Asia, and from this island
there was a passage to other islands, and so, to the
continent beyond. For the sea within the Pillars
is really only a small inlet, and that other sea is
really the ocean, and the land that surrounds it
really the continent.
" Now in this island of Atlantis, there was a
great government of kings who ruled over the
whole island, and other islands, and part of the
continent, and extended their sway within the
straits to Libya and Egypt, and in Europe as far
as Tyrrhenia. This empire collected its forces
and attempted to subjugate both you and us, and
all within the straits. And then, 0 Solon, your
city showed itself illustrious for virtue and strength
in the eyes of all mankind. For holding the first
place in military skill and courage, she at first
stood at the head of the Hellenes in the contest,
and then, when they from necessity left her to
fight the battle alone, being thus reduced to the
extreme of peril, she gained the victory, erected
her trophies, saved her allies from slavery, and
restored to freedom, without seeking any reward
for herself, all within the Pillars of Hercules."
Having thus reached the climax of the legend,
430 THE TIMÆUS.
the actors are disposed of in a very summary and
complete manner.
" Afterwards great earthquakes and deluges
took place, and in one terrible day and night, all
your army was swallowed up by the earth ; and
in like manner the Isle of Atlantis sunk in the
ocean, and was seen no more. And hence it comes
that the sea in that region is impassable and unnavigable,
the island having in sinking left an
immense body of mud in the water."
This, Kritias says, is the story which he has
recovered from the traces of it left in his youthful
memory, and he proposes to pursue the story into
detail, as a way of satisfying Socrates's desire of
seeing his imaginary city in action. To this purpose
Socrates cordially assents.
In the Dialogue entitled Kritias, which is one
of the Platonic Dialogues, there is a further declaration
of a purpose to represent a perfect State in
action ; but, as I have said, the Dialogue, or that
part of it which remains, is of little or no value as
a performance of this purpose, and is indeed probably
not Plato's writing.
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